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THE  STAIRWAY  ON  THE  WALL 


THE  STAIRWAY 
ON  THE  WALL 


BY 

AUGUSTA  PRESCOTT 


NEW  YORK 
THE  ALICE  HARRIMAN  COMPANY 

1911 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
THE  ALICE   HARRIMAN  COMPANY 


THE   PREMIER   PRESS 
NEW    YORK 


TO  THE  FRIEND 

Who  so  faithfully  and  tirelessly 
accompanies  me  on  my  mental  adventures 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I  I  PLAY  THE  DETECTIVE  .      .      .      .17 

II  THE  HEPWORTH  DIAMOND  ...     28 

III  TO-MORROW  NIGHT  AT  NINE      .      .     40 

IV  THE  MYSTERIOUS  AUNT  FAITH  .      .     47 
V  I  PLAY  PRINCE  CHARMING  ...     55 

VI  THE  HADLEY  FAMILY     ....     64 
VII  THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  BLACK  BAG     79 
VIII  A  BULLET  IN  THE  DARK       ...     90 
IX  THE  TOILS  OF  SIR  CHARLES.       .      .     97 
X  THE  REV.  MR.  PANCOAST  Is  MISS- 
ING        in 

XI  A  MYSTERY  AT  MIDNIGHT  .      .      .119 

XII  SIR  CHARLES  is  DISCONCERTED  .      .127 

XIII  THE  FLASH  OF  A  DIAMOND  .      .      .   133 

XIV  WITH  INTENT  TO  KILL  ....    141 
XV  A  MOMENT  OF  TEMPTATION       .      .    148 

XVI     THE  AWAKENING 154 

XVII  FLORENTINE  is  MISSING.      .      .      .162 

XVIII  THE  HIGHWAYWOMAN    .      .      .      .171 

XIX  THE  STAIRWAY  OF  VINES       .      .        185 

XX  ALONG  THE  NARROW  TRAIL  .      .      .   194 

XXI  THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS  .      .      .  208 

XXII  COUSIN  IRENE  AND  UNCLE  JASON     .  218 

XXIII  THE  MISSING  HEIRLOOM       .      .      ,  227 

XXIV  THE  VIOLET  LADY  AGAIN     .      .      .  236 
XXV  UNCLE  JASON  PLAYS  ALADDIN  .      .   242 

XXVI     ME  OR  MY  DOUBLE 248 

XXVII  THE  ROOM   WITH   THE   DOUBLE 

WALL 255 

XXVIII  THE  MISSING  HEPWORTH    .      .      .  262 

XXIX     I  BUY  THE  KOHINA 269 

XXX  SHALL  IT  BE  ORANGE  BLOSSOMS      .  274 

XXXI     A  POINT  OF  ETHICS 281 

XXXII  FLORENTINE  DECIDES      ....  288 

XXXIII  AN  INTERVIEW  WITH  HER  MOTHER  301 

XXXIV  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS  CHARMING  .  313 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON  THE  WALL 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 
CHAPTER    I 

I   PLAY   THE  DETECTIVE 

IT  takes  the  pre-natal  influence  of  jealousy  to  make 
a  good  detective ;  I  am  from  Beverly,  Mass.5 
and  no  germ  of  suspicion  was  floating  in  the 
atmosphere  at  the  time  when  it  would  have  been  of 
service  to  me.  And  that  is  why  I  stood  so  listlessly  in 
Lady  Kensington's  upper  rear  drawing-room  guard- 
ing the  wedding  presents;  I  knew  no  one  would  take 
them. 

Circumstance — not  my  will — had  brought  me  here; 
circumstance  coupled  with  the  thought  that  I  might 
have  another  chance  of  seeing — her! 

Nominally  I  was  there  to  watch  that  no  one  depart- 
ing took  anything  that  should  not  have  been  per- 
sonally conducted  from  the  house.  Actually,  down 
deep  in  my  heart,  I  knew  that  I  was  simply  hoping  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  girl  who  had  come  into  my 
life  quite  dramatically  and  unexpectedly  ten  days  be- 
fore. 

She  had  arrived  with  the  swiftness  and  directness 
of  an  arrow.  One  moment  I  had  been  care  free  and 
tranquil,  heart  whole  and  happy,  a  bachelor  at  thirty- 
three.  The  next  instant  and  Cupid  let  fly  an  arrow 
from  his  bow  that  changed  the  whole  beating  of  my 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

heart.     I  was  the  victim  of  that  astigmatism  of  the 
mind's  eye  known  as  Love  at  First  Sight. 

Yet  I  was  only  the  detective  employed  to  watch  the 
wedding  presents;  while  she  was  a  member  of  the 
British  aristocracy  and  her  family  name  was  blazoned 
forth  in  Burke. 

But  to  go  back  to  the  wedding  presents ;  there  were 
three  great  shelves  of  precious  stones — for  Lady  Ken- 
sington's guests  were  not  among  the  "poor  but  honest" 
class;  and  there  were  chests  and  coffers  of  silver  and 
plate. 

But  my  special  mission,  the  object  for  which  I  had 
been  placed  in  this  position  of  responsibility,  was  to 
guard  one  great  jewel — the  Hepworth  diamond.  It 
was  a  pure  white  stone  of,  I  don't  know  how  many 
carats ;  and  its  value  was  so  great  that  Lady  Kensing- 
ton had  not  been  able  to  obtain  an  insurance  upon  it. 

I  looked  carelessly  at  the  Hepworth — for  frankly  it 
did  not  interest  me  greatly — and  I  wondered  at  its 
value.  There  it  lay  in  its  box  of  blue  velvet  sparkling 
like  the  sun;  even  among  the  other  jewels  it  shone 
like  a  comet  of  light  placed  among  bodies  of  lesser 
magnitude.  And,  though  I  took  no  keen  delight  in 
it,  I  could  not  help  observing  that  it  was  a  very  won- 
derful stone  indeed;  deep,  with  countless  facets,  each 
one  catching  and  throwing  back  the  colors  that  came 
within  the  radius  of  its  darting  fire;  violet,  indigo, 
blue,  green,  yellow,  orange  and  red — my  head  grew 
dizzy  watching  it. 

Lady  Kensington,  when  she  put  me  at  this  post 
of  honor,  told  me  never  for  one  instant  to  take  my 
eyes  off  it. 

18 


I   PLAY    THE    DETECTIVE 

"Most  of  my  daughter's  dower  is  tied  up  in  that 
stone,"  she  had  cautioned  me,  "and  I  bought  it  for 
her  only  because  half  the  crowned  heads  in  Europe 
were  bidding  on  it;  don't  let  your  eyes  leave  it  for 
one  minute  to-night." 

"But  if  I  watch  it  all  the  evening  I  shall  be  stone 
blind,"  I  had  replied. 

"Never  mind,"  was  Lady  Hensington's  retort, 
"watch  it  for  your  life!" 

Incidentally,  I  had  as  an  assistant  a  man  from  Scot- 
land Yard,  who  stood  in  the  doorway.  His  duty  was 
to  keep  the  low  class  crooks  from  getting  in;  mine  to 
keep  the  high  class  ones  from  taking  things  and  get- 
ting out. 

The  hour  was  eight,  a  most  unusual  time  for  an 
English  wedding.  But  it  seems  that  the  Italian  Mar- 
quis had  balked  at  the  settlements  at  the  last  moment ; 
and  it  had  taken  us  from  High  Noon  until  now  to  get 
things  arranged  to  his  satisfaction.  Meanwhile  the 
bride — poor  hysterical  victim — wept  in  her  veil; 
while  Lady  Kensington,  her  mother,  and  I,  her  lawyer, 
signed  over  another  million  to  the  Italian  Chambreys 
present  and  to  come. 

Lady  Hensington  was  a  Boston  woman  who  had 
married  a  tarnished  English  title  twenty  years  before. 
Fortunately  for  her,  Lord  Hensington  had  died  on  his 
wedding  journey.  And  now,  after  a  score  of  rather 
precarious  years  in  English  society,  Lady  Hensington 
had  secured  an  Italian  title  for  her  only  child.  It 
was  not  much  of  a  title  and  it  came  high,  but  Lady 
Hensington  felt  that  she  must  have  it.  Henceforth 
it  would  be,  "My  daughter,  the  Marquise  de  Cham- 

19 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

brey!"  And  she  had  brought  me,  her  family  lawyer, 
over  from  America,  to  help  with  the  settlements. 

"He's  got  everything  now  except  vche  dove-cote  on 
the  Staten  Island  farm,"  I  grumbled  to  Lady  Hen- 
sington  as  I  sealed  and  settled  the  papers. 

"Hush — h!  He  doesn't  know  about  it,"  whispered 
she,  with  a  timid  glance  over  her  shoulder  to  where 
his  lawyers  sat,  glutted  with  the  spoils.  Then,  with 
a  victorious  smile,  as  of  one  who  had  done  a  royal 
duty  by  her  only  daughter,  she  swept  to  the  drawing- 
room  to  welcome  the  guests,  who,  having  gone  away 
unsatisfied  at  High  Noon,  were  now  returning  to  offer 
congratulations  and  to  partake  of  the  wedding  baked 
meats. 

At  this  stage  in  the  wedding  function  I  brightened 
up,  for  the  first  time,  for  I  knew  that  now  the  moment 
was  approaching  when  I  would  have  my  chance  of 
seeing — her!  What  was  the  Hepworth  diamond, 
however  dazzling,  compared  to  a  sight  of  her. 

I  use  the  word  seeing,  for  I  did  not  at  that  time 
have  a  speaking  acquaintance  with  the  Honorable 
Florentine  Hadley.  Perhaps  I  had  not  even  coveted 
one,  for  I  was  in  that  frame  of  mind  when — had  I 
been  presented  to  her  by  some  grace  of  God  or  good 
will  of  man — I  might  have  stood  in  front  of  her  mute ; 
not  dead,  but  very  speechless.  For  I  was  suffering 
not  only  from  Love  at  First  Sight,  but  from  the 
paralysis  of  the  faculties  that  goes  with  it. 

As  I  stood,  there  watching  those  over-dressed,  over- 
fed, over-rich  persons — banal  all! — come  and  go,  I 
forgot  the  diamond  and  I  became  conscious  of  a  Pres- 
ence and  then  of  a  Voice.  It  was  just  back  of  my 

20 


/   PLAY    THE   DETECTIVE 


shoulder.  And  that  it  was  the  voice  of  her  for  whom 
I  had  been  waiting  all  the  evening  I  knew  without 
turning  my  head.  But  though  living  all  this  day  for 
this  moment,  anticipating  it,  praying  and  hoping  for 
it,  I  was  scarcely  prepared  for  the  words  she  spoke: 

"Please  introduce  him,  Charley;  I  specially  wish  to 
know  him." 

Charley's  reply,  uttered  in  the  chesty  raspiness  of 
a  much  moneyed  and  over  indulged  man  of  forty,  flab- 
bergasted me. 

"But  it  is  out  of  the  question,  Florentine.  He  is 
as  poor  as  a  hack-horse ;  poorer  than  a  church  mouse ; 
and — besides " 

"Besides  what?" 

"He's  here  as  a  hired  man.  He  is  a  detective  em- 
ployed to  watch  the  million  pounds  in  wedding  pres- 
ents, and  the  Hepworth  diamond,  Lady  Kensington's 
present  to  the  bride.  She  told  me  so  just  now.  She 
said  she  hired  him  to  stand  right  there  all  the  evening 
and  guard  it.  I'll  venture  though,  she  is  paying  the 
poor  devil  little  enough  besides  his  supper,  at  that." 

Confound  Lady  Kensington!  To  take  advantage 
of  me  in  that  way  in  order  to  impress  the  evil  but 
opulent  Sir  Charles  with  an  idea  of  her  wealth !  And 
confound  my  accommodating  disposition  for  bringing 
me  here.  But  I  had  learned  one  thing:  namely,  that 
the  man  with  her  was  her  cousin,  Sir  Charles  Hadley, 
"Sepoy  Hadley"  I  had  heard  him  called  when  I  was 
introduced  to  him.  And  that  cousin  or  no  cousin  he 
had  a  reputation  for  doing  the  most  unscrupulous 
things  in  the  financial  world  of  any  in  England. 

The  rasping  voice  of  Sir  Charles  went  on: 

21 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"He's  one  of  those  fellows  who  would  knock  you 
down  with  a  bludgeon,  or  throttle  you,  or — or  commit 
hari-kari,  or  whatever  else  you  want  him  to  do  if — 
if  you  pay  him  enough  money  for  it, — don't  you 
know !" 

"Tell  me  some  more!"  came  breathlessly  from  the 
girl. 

Despite  the  thud  made  by  my  heart,  as  it  settled  in 
my  pumps,  I  could  catch  every  cadence  of  her  voice, 
and  it  vaguely  seemed  to  me  that  she  was  not  as 
shocked  as  I  supposed  she  would  be. 

"More,"  growled  Sir  Charles.  "Why,  for  a  guinea 
he'd  squeeze  the  neck  of  anybody  at  this  wedding.  He 
is  one  of  the  bloodiest  men  in  his  profession.  But 
he's  so  hard  up  he's  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed, 
I  suppose,"  he  added  magnanimously. 

I  pinched  my  fingers  to  still  the  itching  in  them. 
As  I  thought  of  the  neck  of  Sir  Charles,  it  would  not 
have  cost  a  guinea ! 

Yet  I  knew  at  that  crucial  time,  with  those  two 
people  standing  behind  me — one  the  dearest  in  all  the 
world  to  me,  and  the  other  rapidly  becoming  the  hate- 
fulest — I  knew  that  my  ridiculous  position  at  the 
present  moment  was  all  my  own  fault.  I  need  not 
have  been  there  as  a  detective.  I  had  voluntarily  fore- 
ordained myself  to  be  the  victim,  the  lamb,  the  Isaac 
now  being  sacrificed  upon  the  altar  of  Lady  Ken- 
sington's ambitions  and  gradually  roasted  by  slow 
torture  without  anesthesia,  under  the  very  eyes  of  his 
lady  love.  I  learned  in  that  painful  few  seconds  that 
the  color  of  burning  fagots  is  deep  blue,  zig-zagged 
with  streaks  of  Lucifer. 

22 


I  'PLAY    THE   DETECTIVE 


"He's  nothing  but  a  thug,"  affirmed  Sir  Charles. 

But  the  girl's  reply  changed  the  whole  color  scheme : 

"He  doesn't  look  it,"  she  objected.  "But,  oh,  I 
hope  that  it  is  true ;  he  will  do  what  I  want  him  to  do." 

What  she  wanted  me  to  do ! 

There  was  a  soft  thumping  as  though  she  were  clap- 
ping her  little  gloved  hands  together,  but  her  voice 
had  a  curious  note  in  it ;  a  stricture  of  suspense  or  fear 
seemed  gripping  her  throat.  If  I  had  been  a  student 
of  psychology  I  would  have  said  she  was  a  girl  grasp- 
ing at  a  straw. 

"I  wanted  to  know  him  before,  but  now  I  really 
must!  Introduce  him,  Charley,  and  if  he  is  half  as 
desperate  as  you  say  he  is,  I  am  sure  he  is  just  the 
person  I  need." 

I  listened  with  a  new  and  surprised  emotion.  There 
was  a  cautious  lilt  in  my  heart  of  which  I  was  half 
ashamed. 

The  significance  of  her  remark  escaped  Sir  Charles 
or  he  ignored  it. 

"But  I  tell  you,  Florentine,  the  beggar  is  penniless," 
remonstrated  he.  "Why,  I'll  bet  there's  a  silver  watch 
on  the  end  of  his  fob  this  minute." 

I'd  like  to  have  taken  up  that  bet.  My  watch  is 
solid  gold  and  it  was  willed  to  me  by  my  grandfather 
Elliott,  who  left  me  half  his  fortune  on  condition  that 
I  carry  his  timepiece.  I  trust  I'm  not  mercenary,  but 
half  a  million  in  the  United  States  is  worth  half  a  mil- 
lion anywhere.  It  is  as  big  as  a  sauce  plate  and  a  little 
thicker.  Moreover,  there  is  so  much  of  the  too  solid 
element  about  it  that  I  cannot  carry  it  on  a  fob. 

"I  don't  care  if  he  doesn't  carry  any  watch  on  his 
23 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

fob  at  all,"  the  girl  declared  prophetically.  "He  looks 
as  though  he  would  do  me  a  favor,  and  kind  hearts 
are  more  than  coronets,  Sir  Charles!" 

"Kind !"  sneered  Sir  Charles,  he  of  the  trampled 
coronet.  "He  might  as  well  look  kind,  since  it  can't 
lead  him  into  any  extravagance,  seeing  he's  got  noth- 
ing to  give  away.  If  I  were  Lady  Kensington  I 
wouldn't  trust  him  with  a  farthing,  let  alone  the  Hep- 
worth." 

The  conversation,  aside  from  its  personal  qualities, 
was  too  amazing  to  be  dismissed.  Two  thoughts  were 
uppermost.  Why  was  Sir  Charles  Hadley  so  deter- 
mined to  vilify  me?  And  why  should  his  beautiful 
cousin  so  decidedly  take  my  part? 

"For  shame,  Charley,"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "I  saw 
him  pick  up  that  poor  little  grey  dog,  the  dog  you  ran 
over  last  week." 

So,  it  was  Sir  Charles  who  had  run  over  a  dog  and 
cracked  the  little  wretch's  forelegs  and  left  him  howl- 
ing in  front  of  my  door.  The  scamp  was  able  to  limp 
out  to-night  and  lick  up  my  terrapin  stew  while  I  was 
changing  ties  for  the  third  time.  Well,  "Grey"  won't 
have  to  steal  his  terrapin  hereafter;  I'll  put  it  on  the 
floor  for  him. 

"There  isn't  a  tuppence  in  picking  up  stray  dogs," 
Sir  Charles'  snarling  voice  went  on.  "But  since  you're 
bound  to  know  him  I'll  indulge  your  taste  for  low 
companions  this  time.  There's  American  blood  in 
you  on  your  mother's  side,  surely.  I'll  introduce  him ; 
but  remember  what  I  say — there's  nothing  good  ever 
comes  of  knowing  penniless  persons." 

24 


/   PLAY    THE   DETECTIVE 


"Is  he  poorer  than  I  am?"  asked  the  girl  with  a 
hard  note  in  her  voice. 

"You  are  supposed  to  be  an  heiress,"  sneered  Sir 
Charles,  "and  you  might  roll  in  money  if " 

"There's  no  need  of  talking  about  it,"  interrupted 
she,  "I've  told  you " 

"But  it  isn't  a  matter  of  choice  with  you,  it  is  neces- 
sity. You  are  in  a  desperate  position,"  argued  he  in 
a  tone  that  must  have  gone  through  her  like  a  coarse 
saw.  "It  is  family  pride,  honor — your  honor  and  mine 
— and  it's  money." 

"Don't,"  cried  the  Honorable  Florentine  in  a  voice 
so  pitiful  that  it  would  have  melted  any  human  heart 
except  that  of  Sepoy  Hadley. 

"Come,"  she  added,  changing  the  subject  with  a 
self-control  that  was  admirable,  "you  promised  to  pre- 
sent— him." 

"Oh,"  sneered  the  Baronet.  "He  can't  help  you — 
unless,"  he  added  as  a  malicious  after  thought,  "un- 
less you  can  get  him  to  steal  the  Hepworth  for  you — 
you're  good  at  driving  men  desperate." 

"You  are  too  cruel — unjust " 

"It  will  be  taken  before  the  night  is  over;  no  big 
wedding  ever  passed  off  safely  with  a  diamond  like 
that  lying  there  in  easy  reach.  Somebody's  going  to 
steal  it  and  it  might  as  well  be " 

"I  have  always  suspected  you  of  being  a  devil — 
now  I  can  believe  it " 

The  voice  was  restrained,  but  there  was  a  bitter- 
ness in  it  that  spoke  even  more  than  the  words. 

Sir  Charles  laughed — cackled — would  be  a  better 
word. 

25 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"Somebody  else  would  get  the  credit  for  it  and,  after 
awhile,  you  could  break  it  up  and  sell  it,  or  you  could 
re-cut  it  into  a  pear — 

"Stop,"  wailed  the  girl,  "or  you  will  drive  me " 

"Then  why  don't  you  hurry  up  and  do " 

"What?" 

"The  thing  you've  got  to  do — and  you've  got  to  do 
it  soon — before  to-morrow  night." 

His  tone  had  sunk  to  a  hiss;  I'd  read  of  the  human 
hiss  but  never  did  I  hear  it  before. 

Her  speech  was  very  low  but  there  was  a  new — a 
half-frightened — reverberation  as  she  answered: 

"I'll  do  it— I  promise." 

"I  believe  you're  lying!" 

"Take  care!" 

The  girl's  voice  had  a  threatening  cry. 

"If  you  don't  I  wash  my  hands  of  you,"  uttered  Sir 
Charles  thickly.  "And  to-morrow  all  London  will  ring 
with  a  sensational  account  of  the  Honorable  Miss 
Hadley " 

They  had  moved  out  of  ear-shot. 

Ethically  I  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of  having 
listened;  in  reality  I  knew  that  I  could  not  have  torn 
myself  out  of  range  of  hearing  if  I  had  gripped  a 
whirring  world.  I  was  held  there  motionless  by  a 
magnetic  current  of  incalculable  power  and  I  could  not 
have  moved.  The  woman  and  I  were  coming  into 
the  same  psychic  zone  and  our  lives  were  drawing  to- 
gether with  the  certainty  of  an  inexorable  fate.  I  had 
to  hear. 

The  rustle  of  her  gown  died  away  behind  me  and  I 
knew  it  wouldn't  take  more  than  one  full  minute  for 

26 


/   PLAY    THE    DETECTIVE 


them  to  cross  the  room,  turn,  come  back,  and  stand  in 
front  of  me.  I  closed  my  eyes  and  counted.  I  knew 
they  had  started  and  I  didn't  need  a  curved  lens  to 
tell  me  just  where  they  were;  nor  did  I  need  eyes  to 
show  me  how -she  would  look.  I  knew  that  there  was 
approaching  me  the  handsomest  girl  in  the  whole 
world.  This  is  a  conservative  estimate  as  I  haven't 
visited  Mars;  and  I  had  learned  from  Lady  Hensing- 
ton  that  she  was  the  richest  and  most  elegant  young 
woman  in  England. 

I  remembered  dizzily  now  to  have  heard  something 
ugly  concerning  her  fortune,  but  this  was  no  time  to 
think  of  that.  The  supreme  fact  was  that  there  was 
coming  toward  me — making  a  bee  line  for  me — the 
young  woman  with  whom  I  was  madly  in  love — the 
girl  for  whom  I  believed  I  had  been  preserved  ever 
since  I  was  born. 

I  did  not  know  then  that  she  was  the  girl  destined 
to  bring  pride  and  joy  into  my  life;  pain  and  misun- 
derstanding; tragedy  and  passion,  and  all  the  other 
things  that  transport  us  from  Heaven  to  earth  and 
back  to  Heaven  again. 

I  only  realized  that  as  my  eyes  opened  again  my 
gaze  was  on  the  big  diamond  with  a  fortune  chiseled 
into  its  faceted  depths;  but  my  heart  had  left  me 
for  the  beautiful  woman  who  wanted  to  know  me 
so  that  she  could  ask  a  favor  of  me. 

I  might  have  been  a  fool,  but  a  man  isn't  a  man 
until  he  has  a  fool's  diploma. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    HEPWORTH    DIAMOND 

1    CLOSED  my  eyes  again  and  listened.   The  rust- 
ling silver  gown  was  very  near  and  I  caught  the 
lily  perfume  which  I  always  associated  with 
her.    Do  angels  carry  harps  or  is  it  lilies  ?    The  genial 
voice  of  Sir  Charles  made  me  open  my  eyes. 

"Ah,  asleep  at  your  post?" 

"No — o,"  I  stammered,  blinking  and  trying  to  keep 
my  eyes  in  hand  so  to  speak.  "I'm  awake,  wide 
awake." 

"Well,  you  don't  look  it,"  replied  the  cheery  one, 
"and  for  a  penny  I'd  wager  that  you  were  snoozing. 
Come,  shake  yourself.  I  want  to  introduce  you  to 
my  cousin,  the  Honorable  Florentine  Hadley,  Mr.— er 
— what's  your  name?" 

"Elliott,  Roman  Elliott,"  I  said,  holding  out  my 
hand  to  him  merely  so  that  I  could  have  an  excuse  for 
passing  it  along  to  her. 

He  shook  it  with  his  left  hand.    He  had  to ! 

"Elliott !  Oh,  yes,  to  be  sure.  I  ought  to  have  re- 
membered. I  had  an  old  skate  once,  named  Elliott. 
Wasn't  worth  a  farthing;  laid  down  every  fifteen 
minutes.  But  I  held  on  to  him  and  sold  him  after  a 
while  for  a  pound." 

The  ill-featured  rascal  fairly  beamed  on  me  at  the 
pleasant  recollection  before  he  performed  the  intro- 
duction : 

28 


THE   HEPWORTH   DIAMOND 

"Florentine,  this  is  Mr.  Elliott  of — nowhere,  I 
guess.  It's  cheapest  living  there;  you  asked  me  to 
introduce  him." 

I  bowed,  but  did  not  lift  my  eyes  to  Florentine's 
face. 

Sir  Charles  turned  away  and  I  saw  him  looking  at 
the  wedding  presents.  He  stood  very  close,  and  if  I 
had  been  of  a  suspicious  nature  I  would  have  said  that 
he  was  in  front  of  them  a  remarkably  long  time.  I 
thought  of  it  afterwards — so  often. 

Sir  Charles,  having  inspected  the  gifts,  turned 
abruptly  to  Florentine,  "Well,  I'll  leave  you  to  talk  to 
him.  Don't  let  him  borrow  anything  of  you.  Good- 
bye ;  and  here's  your  fan,  Florentine." 

So  this  was  Sir  Charles  Hadley,  the  English  baronet 
of  whose  eccentricities  I  had  heard !  And  it  was  in 
this  fashion  and  after  this  manner — partly  in  asides 
and  partly  in  coarse  jest — he  had  introduced  me  to 
his  cousin.  The  whole  thing  savored  of  the  grotesque ! 

He  made  an  odd  bow  as  if  to  move  away.  But,  as 
he  handed  her  the  fan,  I  saw  his  hand.  /  saw  his 
hand!  He  had  unwrapped  it  for  an  instant  and,  as 
he  caught  my  eyes  fixed  upon  it,  his  face  flared  up  as 
with  a  purple  douche.  But  I  had  seen  it. 

He  moved  again  to  the  jewels;  I  knew  he  was  in 
front  of  the  Hep  worth  diamond,  for  its  fire  flashed 
away  from  me  for  an  instant;  at  the  same  time  he  fud- 
dled the  wrapping  of  his  hand.  It  was  an  odd  man- 
oeuvre, for  he  turned  to  me  hastily  to  know  if  I  had 
seen  him;  my  eyes  were  upon  him,  and,  if  he  could 
have  stabbed  me  with  a  look,  I  would  have  fallen 
pierced  to  the  heart.  His  purple  deepened  to  conges- 

29 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

tion ;  he  made  another  move  toward  the  Hepworth, 
then  stopped  as  though  arrested  by  my  eye.  He  had 
intended  to  examine  the  diamond  again,  but  changed 
his  purpose. 

"I  will  see  you  downstairs,"  he  muttered  to  her. 

And  so  he  introduced  us  and  left  us,  the  Honorable 
Florentine  embarrassed  almost  to  the  point  of  tears! 
And  I,  distressed ;  not  at  the  wretch's  rudeness,  but 
that  she  should  be  so  distressed ! 

She  recovered  herself  first  as  is  the  way  of  women 
in  embarrassing  situations. 

"I  asked  my  cousin  to  introduce  you,"  she  apolo- 
gized. "But  I  didn't  suppose  he  would  be  so  ungen- 

tlemanly — so  rude  as •"     In  the  next  breath  the 

dear  girl  began  to  excuse  him:  "He  has  been  away 
from  England  so  long — among  the  Sepoys — and  else- 
where— that  he  is  so — so — so " 

"So  delightfully  considerate  as  to  betake  himself 
away!"  I  broke  in. 

At  this  she  laughed  and  I  laughed,  too.  If  she  had 
cried;  if  she  had  cried!  The  laugh  broke  the  ice  as 
laughs  will.  My  cousin  Irene  and  I  once  laughed  so 
hard,  skating  the  double  grapevine  twist,  that  we  both 
went  through  the  ice  on  her  mother's  artificial  lake. 
I  stood  on  the  deck  of  a  toy  boat  that  had  capsized 
during  the  summer  and  pulled  Irene  out. 

If  the  Lady  Florentine  were  to  fall  into  any  trou- 
ble of  any  kind,  what  would  I  not  do  to  get  her  back ! 
But  that  was  a  look  ahead ;  at  present  I  was  in  a  kind 
of  bliss  that  fairly  cloyed  my  senses  with  its  sweet- 
ness. 

30 


THE   HEPWORTH   DIAMOND 

"I  asked  Cousin  Charles  to  introduce  you  because — 
because  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you." 

"A  very  clever  way  to  bring  it  about,"  I  agreed  de- 
lightedly. 

"I  mean  about  something  special.  Could  you — do 
you  think  you  could  spare  the  time — to  talk  to  me  a 
little  while  ?" 

Could  I  spare  the  what?  Hadn't  I  been  sparing 
fourteen  hours  out  of  my  waking  sixteen  for  the  last 
ten  days  to  talk  to  her  in  my  imagination?  And 
wasn't  I  dreaming  of  her  the  whole  eight  hours  of  my 
sleeping  night?  Could  I  spare  the  time  to  talk  to  her 
about  something  special?  Well,  I  guess,  yes!  as  we 
used  to  say  at  Cambridge. 

Her  next  speech  acquitted  the  question  of  its 
idiocy.  Could  I  spare  the  time! 

"I  didn't  suppose  Lady  Kensington  would  allow 
you  to  leave  just  now  on  account  of  the  diamond." 

"It  is  of  no  account,"  I  replied  boldly.  I  glanced 
at  the  Hepworth  as  I  spoke;  there  it  reposed  in  its 
blue  velvet  nest,  sending  forth  whole  planets  of  light. 

"You  cannot  leave  now,"  she  went  on,  "and  I  must 
wait." 

"No,  no,"  I  said  hastily,  for  I  knew  in  my  heart  that 
it  would  have  taken  several  Lady  Kensingtons  to  de- 
tain me.  "I — I'll  ask  her,"  faltered  I,  with  a  spiteful 
glance  at  the  Hepworth. 

"I  wouldn't  want  you  to  lose  your  position  for  me," 
said  the  Honorable  Florentine. 

"I  wouldn't  want  to;  it  wouldn't  be  right  for  me," 
lied  I.  "But  if  you'll  excuse  me  a  moment  I  think  I 
can  arrange  matters  with  Lady  Kensington." 

31 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"What  about  the  wedding  presents?"  asked  she  as 
her  beautiful  eyes  rested  upon  a  turquoise  set  that 
just  matched  them  in  color,  "and  the  Hepworth  dia- 
mond ?" 

I  had  already  half  forgotten  the  stupid  things  and 
refused  to  look  at  them  again.  There  they  were 
ranged  in  triple  rows  on  three  shelves  with  a  triple 
display  of  incandescents  glowing  malignantly  down 
upon  them. 

"I  think  they  are  safe,"  I  said ;  "I  am  sure  that  light 
is  brilliant  enough  to  X-ray  the  brain  of  any  one  who 
thought  of  taking  them." 

"Oh,  please — please — don't  leave  them  alone," 
begged  the  Honorable  Florentine.  "What  would  you 
do  if  anything  should  happen  to  them?  And  we  have 
all  heard  so  much  about  them.  They  are  the  talk  of 
London." 

"Buy  something  a  thousand  times  as  fine,"  was  on 
the  tip  of  my  foolish  tongue.  "I'll  go  and  get  a  nurse- 
maid to  take  care  of  them,"  I  muttered  savagely  be- 
tween my  teeth.  I  looked  at  her  for  approval,  but  her 
thoughts  were  away  and  she  didn't  hear  me.  Then, 
in  my  best  voice  I  said:  "They  will  be  safe  until  I 
can  send  some  one  to  take  my  place." 

In  her  big  jeweled  eyes  there  came  a  glad  light, 
bright  enough  to  lighten  the  spot  in  my  heart  made 
gloomy  by  the  thought  that  I  was  deceiving  her,  and 
she  smiled.  Truly  all  is  fair  in  love  and  poverty,  I 
reflected;  and  as  for  diamonds,  who  could  think  of 
them  with  those  bright  eyes  shining  so  near. 

"Then  ask  Lady  Kensington's  permission  to  accom- 
pany me  a  little  way  in  my  carriage — here  she  is — and 

32 


THE   HEPWORTH   DIAMOND 

I  may  want  you  to  go — perhaps — a  considerable  dis- 
tance ;  please  ask  her  now !" 

I  followed  the  direction  of  Florentine's  eyes.  Sure 
enough,  there  was  Lady  Kensington.  Impelled  by 
the  delight  of  having  so  much  wealth  to  display  she 
had  left  the  drawing-room  and  had  come  to  enjoy  the 
jewels. 

"She  is  with  my  cousin,  Sir  Charles,"  observed  the 
Honorable  Miss  Hadley,  in  some  surprise,  shrinking 
back  a  little  as  she  spoke. 

I  looked  again  and  truly  there  by  Lady  Kensing- 
ton's side  was  Sir  Charles  Hadley.  Lady  Kensington 
was  talking  volubly  and  Sir  Charles  was  listening  with 
what  was  intended  to  be  polite  attention. 

"This,"  said  Lady  Kensington,  picking  up  the  blue 
velvet  box,  "is  the  Hepworth!"  She  held  it  for  an 
instant  with  the  pride  of  a  woman  who  has  half  a 
million  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand;  and  then  she  held 
it  out  to  Sir  Charles. 

In  some  way,  passing  from  hand  to  hand,  the  box 
slipped  and  fell.  Lady  Kensington  cried  out  in  dis- 
may, but  Sir  Charles  picked  it  up  and  restored  it. 

"Very  unwise  of  you,  Lady  Kensington,"  I  heard 
him  say,  and  then  they  passed  on.  An  instant  later 
Sir  Charles  came  back — apparently  at  Lady  Kensing- 
ton's request — and  rearranged  the  diamond.  It  took 
him  a  long  time  and  again  he  fuddled  the  linen  ban- 
dage on  his  hand.  He  lifted  the  velvet  box,  turned  it. 
laid  the  diamond  this  way  and  that;  and  more  than 
once  stepped  back  to  inspect  it;  Lady  Kensington 
from  the  distant  doorway  watched  him  approvingly. 
At  length  the  diamond  was  placed  in  its  velvet  bed. 

33 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

The  Honorable  Miss  Hadley  and  I,  half  sheltered 
behind  a  palm,  were  interested  spectators  of  it  all;  as 
Sir  Charles  bent  there  over  the  diamond  her  hands 
went  shut  in  a  grip  which  tightened  to  a  clinch;  as 
he  lingered  her  fingers  closed  upon  her  fan,  and  rib 
by  rib,  its  delicate  frame  work  snapped  in  her  agon- 
ized grasp. 

"There — he  is  gone,"  I  uttered;  for,  stranger 
though  I  was,  it  was  useless  to  pretend  that  I  did  not 
notice  her  agitation. 

"You  will  find  me  in  the  carriage,"  she  whispered 
furtively,  "my  chaperon  was  taken  ill  and  went  home, 
so  I  am  alone.  Wait  in  the  vestibule.  When  my  num- 
ber is  called,  go  down  and  get  it.  You  will  find  me 
there  looking  for  you.  And  if  you  can — Air. — Elliott 
— please  keep  Sir  Charles  from  seeing  us  go  away  to- 
gether." 

For  reply  I  squeezed  her  hand  gently.  Perhaps 
I  added  a  little  emphasis  to  the  finger  squeeze — be- 
cause I  knew  Sir  Charles  couldn't,  with  his  hand! 

She  melted  away  upstairs  in  search  of  her  wraps 
and  I  stood  watching  until  the  last  fold  of  her  silver 
train  had  swept  out  of  sight. 

I  took  a  farewell  look  at  the  Hepworth;  it  was 
there,  sauceresque  in  its  myriad  cuttings — each 
lighted  facet  reflecting  and  magnifying  its  size  a  thou- 
sand fold.  But,  by  some  freak  of  fancy,  or  trick  of 
the  imagination,  it  seemed  less  beautiful  to  me.  No 
longer  did  it  lie  proudly  on  top  of  its  velvet  bed,  its 
outlines  more  suggested  than  concealed  by  the  caress- 
ing folds;  but  rather  it  looked  as  though  it  had 
snuggled  underneath  its  covering,  and,  like  an  indis- 

34 


THE    HEP  WORTH   DIAMOND 

posed  beauty,  sick  of  the  glare,  had  crept  to  repose 
with  its  drapery  drawn  tightly  around  it. 

The  Hepworth  was  certainly  half  hidden  in  the 
velvet.  I  stepped  over  to  lift  it  and  lay  it  on  top 
when  I  remembered  my  orders  that  on  no  account 
was  I  to  touch  it.  To  think  that  it  lay  dull  and  sulky 
in  its  box  was,  of  course,  a  freak  of  my  vision. 

What  I  did  was  to  go  to  the  front  door  and  tell 
the  Scotland  Yard  man  to  go  in  and  watch  the  wed- 
ding presents.  I  might  have  been  a  chump — and  prob- 
ably was — but  I  didn't  mention  the  Hepworth  to  him 
for  fear  of  aweing  him.  Then  I  called  up  a  relief  man 
to  take  his  place  at  the  door.  He  was  glad  to  change 
places  with  me,  though  I  was  sorry  enough  afterwards 
that  I  had  not  left  the  old  man  at  the  post. 

My  next  job  was  to  look  up  Sir  Charles.  I  did  not 
have  far  to  search  for  he  stood  right  at  the  door,  ap- 
parently watching  for  some  one  to  depart,  and  on  his 
roughened,  furrowed  face  there  was  a  look,  partly  of 
brutality  and  partly  of  anxiety. 

I  had  a  chance  to  observe  his  right  hand,  which  was 
done  up  in  a  silk  handkerchief,  heavily  embroidered 
and  monogrammed  in  some  strange  Indian  work ;  and, 
as  my  gaze  wandered  back  to  his  face,  I  thought  that 
never  had  I  seen  a  skin  so  fissured  by  life  in  the 
tropics  nor  an  expression  so  rent  by  evil  emotions.  I 
despised  him,  yet  I  must  play  a  part;  and  the  part 
now  was  to  get  him  away  from  the  front  door.  For- 
getting my  temporary  position  there  as  a  menial,  I 
touched  him  genially  on  the  shoulder. 

"Come,    Sir   Charles!"   I   exclaimed,   "and   have   a 

cigar  with  me;  there  are  matters " 

35 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"I'm  not  smoking,"  he  interrupted. 

"Then  let  me  show  you  the  diamonds ;  you're  inter- 
ested in  stones,  Lady  Kensington  tells  me;  and  there 
are  gems  there  worth  their  thousands." 

Sir  Charles  gave  me  a  startled  side  glance.  Did  he 
guess  that  I  was  talking  against  hope  to  get  him  away 
from  the  front  door? 

"There's  one  stone  there,  the  Hepworth — I'd  like  to 
have  you  see  it  again.  It's  the  most  valuable  gem  in 
London ;  why,  if  it  were  stolen,  all  Scotland  Yard " 

"Scotland  Yard!"  he  cried,  throwing  my  hand  off 
his  shoulder.  "What  for  God's  sake — do  you  mean? 
I'll  go  with  you,"  he  finally  uttered  thickly;  "I'll  go, 
but  it  is  there ;  you  can  see  it  for  yourself " 

Scarcely  conscious  of  our  steps  we  wended  our 
way  back  to  the  little  reception  room  where  the  Hep- 
worth  lay,  queen  of  its  brilliant  circle. 

"Look!"  he  ejaculated. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  it?"  I  exclaimed.  "The 
lights  are  playing  a  trick  upon  it." 

I  looked  wonderingly,  for  it  seemed  to  me  it  sent 
forth  no  flash.  Like  a  court  beauty  that  has  been 
the  pet  of  kings,  it  languished  all  dull  and  disdainful 
in  the  presence  of  doubting  mortals;  and  though  I 
looked  at  it  again,  I  could  catch  no  answering  gleam; 
— it  was  as  lifeless  as  though  it  were  a  thing  from 
which  the  spark  has  fled. 

"I  must  be  blind,"  I  confessed.  "But  why  are  you 
so  agitated?" 

Sir  Charles  was  mopping  his  face  and  studying  me 
intently.  He  seemed  to  see  his  mistake,  for  he  recov- 

36 


THE   HEP  WORTH   DIAMOND 

ered  his  self-possession  with  a  rapidity  that  was  mar- 
velous. 

The  Scotland  Yard  man  whom  I  had  put  at  the 
post,  stood  guard  in  front  of  the  jeweled  display. 

"He's  in  your  place,  I  see,"  observed  Sir  Charles, 
now  almost  fully  restored. 

"Yes,  I  have  another  matter  of  more  importance," 
I  foolishly  said. 

Sir  Charles  lifted  his  shoulders. 

A  girl  in  a  gold  colored  gown  flitted  past  us,  be- 
stowing a  telling  glance  upon  the  baronet.  His  eyes 
followed  her;  he  lost  his  look  of  apprehension,  for  he 
was  mere  man  after  all,  and  a  grin  spread  over  his 
cardinal  features;  the  girl  passed  on  alone  into  the 
conservatory,  sending  a  glance  back  at  us  out  of  the 
tail  of  her  eye.  Sir  Charles  saw,  and  it  was  evident 
that  the  eternal  feminine  interested  him;  but  there 
was  something  else  in  his  system  to  be  digested  first. 
I  am  no  coward,  but,  as  he  leered  at  me,  I  almost 
wished  that  he  did  not  hate  me;  it  was  a  look  as  of 
the  Devil ;  and  I  felt  as  powerless  to  fathom  the  depths 
of  its  evil  as  though  I  had  gazed  at  Mephisto,  him- 
self. 

"Where  did  you  leave  Florentine?"  he  asked  with 
a  chuckle  out  of  which  the  fear  had  partly  gone.  "I 
hope  she  didn't  find  out  that  you're  the  richest 
American  in  London  to-night." 

I  ground  my  teeth  at  his  nerve. 

"Then  you  knew  that  I  wasn't  paid  by  the  hour  to 
watch  those  damned  wedding  presents?" 

The  grin  deepened  to  a  leer.  "Yes,  I  knew.  Lady 
Kensington  told  me;  and  she  said  you  had  cautioned 

37 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

her  against  the  thousand  pound  investment  which  she 
was  to  have  put  into  my  Sepoys  to-day." 

Well,  he  had  tried  to  get  even  with  me ;  yet,  as  far 
as  I  knew,  he  had  been  playing  right  into  my  hand, 
and  ignorance  is  temporary  bliss. 

"Where's  Florentine?"  he  repeated. 

"Dancing,"  I  replied  as  the  distant  strains  of  waltz 
music  came  drifting  into  the  reception  room. 

"Then  I  suppose  I  might  as  well  go  and  look  up 
the  little  heiress  that's  waiting  for  me,  in  the  conser- 
vatory. Tell  me,"  whispered  Sir  Charles,  getting  so 
close  to  me  that  the  temptation  to  run  my  fist  down 
his  throat  was  almost  overpowering,  "Did  you  see  that 
little  girl  all  dressed  in  a  gold  colored  frock — a  little 
bit  low — here — eh — lower  than  Florentine's  gown 
even — and — eh  ?" 

He  was,  I  saw  at  once,  a  man  for  whom  there  are 
but  two  things  in  the  world,  love  and  money — any 
kind  of  love  and  any  kind  of  money. 

I  heard  the  rustle  of  Florentine's  shimmering  sil- 
ver frock  upon  the  stairs  or  there's  no  telling  what 
might  have  happened  to  Sir  Charles.  As  it  was,  I 
saw  her  on  the  landing  half  hidden  by  a  palm,  where 
she  waited,  until  she  saw  me  lead,  or  pull  Sir  Charles 
away.  I  saw  him  headed  for  the  conservatory  to 
search  for  the  girl  in  the  gold  colored  frock,  then  I 
glanced  up  at  Florentine;  she  gave  me  a  long  sweet 
look  of  approval  and  I  walked  through  the  hall  and 
out  into  the  vestibule  to  wait  for  her. 

Was  I  doing  right  in  leaving  my  post? 

I  was  not.  I  confess  it  openly.  But  I  hope  for  kind- 
ness, even  as  I  would  extend  it  to  a  man  in  my  posi- 

38 


THE  HEPWORTH  DIAMOND 

tion.  I  was  in  love;  the  girl  was  in  distress — perse- 
cuted, perhaps;  and  she  had  appealed  to  me! 

I  had  come  to  the  wedding  of  my  client  as  a  lawyer ; 
she  had  suddenly  asked  me  to  turn  detective;  I  had 
only  partially  consented. 

I  do  not  always  say  of  myself  that  I  have  done 
those  things  I  ought  not  to  have  done;  and  have  left 
undone  those  things  I  ought  to  have  done !  No  man 
can  make  habitually  such  an  accusation  against  him- 
self with  sincerity. 

But  on  this  occasion  I  did  leave  undone  the  thing  I 
ought  to  have  done !  I  did  not  stay  to  watch  the  dia- 
mond. 

But  if  retribution  follows  such  acts  as  mine,  then 
I  must  lay  to  retributive  justice  the  hours  that  fol- 
lowed. 

Back  in  the  States  there  was  my  Cousin  Irene  with 
whom  I  had  once  considered  myself  much  in  love; 
Irene,  strict,  uncompromising,  exact;  Irene  who,  on 
account  of  duty  to  ideals,  would  not  marry.  And 
there  was  Uncle  Jason,  bluff,  kind-hearted  and  true, 
who  never  slighted  a  task. 

But  here,  before  me,  was  this  bright,  beautiful  girl 
beckoning,  and,  with  only  a  slight  qualm  of  conscience, 
I  deserted  my  place  and  followed  her. 


39 


CHAPTER  III 

TO-MORROW  NIGHT  AT  NINE 

I  SHIVERED  in  the  vestibule,  for  the  draught 
sent  the  rain  in.  Yet  I  was  warm,  for  I  was 
waiting  for  my  lady. 

All  thoughts  of  the  wedding  presents  had  vanished, 
and  with  the  vanishing  of  thoughts  went  the  last  ves- 
tige of  responsibility.  I  don't  attempt  to  excuse  it, 
for  I  was  a  man  in  love,  trusting,  happy — and  confi- 
dent. She  was  a  stranger  to  me,  but  Cupid  leaps  the 
bars  of  time. 

The  Hepworth  was  now  as  far  away  from  me  as 
gems  I  might  have  worn  in  a  previous  existence;  if 
any  flash  of  it  came  back,  it  bore  the  crimson  hue  of 
rebellion.  Lady  Kensington  had  placed  me  there 
without  warning ;  I  had  told  her  I  didn't  know  a  dia- 
mond from  a  charcoal ;  and,  then,  had  come  the  Girl 
into  my  life!  With  me  it  had  been  the  Lady  or  the 
Diamond ;  and  I  gladly  broke  my  tryst  with  the  gem 
to  keep  it  with  the  girl.  It  was  the  gleam  of  a  dia- 
mond versus  the  glory  of  a  girl's  smile ;  and  the  girl's 
smile  \von. 

But  why  did  she  not  come?  The  door  opened  again. 
Ah,  it  was  she  at  last.  She  tripped  down  the  steps. 
for  her  number  had  been  called  and  the  footman  was 
putting  her  in.  The  carriage  moved  leisurely  along 
and  I  had  tjme  to  slip  down  and  overtake  it.  The 

40 


TO-MORROW  NIGHT  AT  NINE 

horses  were  walking,  for  the  street  was  jammed  with 
vehicles;  so  without  halting  the  driver,  I  opened  the 
carriage  door  and  stepped  in. 

If  miracles  had  not  gone  out  of  fashion  I  should 
say  that  one  had  happened — and  to  me.  I  seated  my- 
self beside  her;  and  she  pulled  aside  her  satin  cloak  to 
give  me  room. 

"Drive  to  Lady  Faith's,"  was  the  order  she  had 
given  the  footman,  as  he  closed  the  door.  "Aunt 
Faith  lives  a  long  distance  away,  quite  the  other  end 
of  London.  But  I  thought  it  would  give  us  all  the 
better  opportunity  to  talk,"  she  explained,  when  we 
had  cleared  the  crowd. 

She  settled  herself  as  she  spoke,  in  her  corner  of 
the  brougham,  while  I  tried  to  turn  so  that  I  could 
see  her.  It  seemed  so  marvelous  that  I  should  be  sit- 
ting so  close  to  her  that  again  I  had  the  utmost  diffi- 
culty in  believing  myself  awake.  The  night  had  turned 
cool  in  the  late  London  twilight  and  there  was  a  soft 
English  drizzle  falling.  I  lifted  the  linen  robe  and 
tucked  it  around  her. 

"Oh,  I  shall  not  need  it,"  she  laughed.  "I  came  pre- 
pared for  a  drive.  I  have  my  cloak,  as  you  see,  and, 
for  fear  it  would  be  chilly,  I  brought  this  little  fur 
wrap  and  a  feather  boa." 

She  threw  the  fur  cape  around  her  shoulders  as  she 
spoke  and  her  head  bent  so  near  to  mine  that  she 
almost  touched  me.  For  the  first  time  I  had  a  chance 
to  observe  her  closely. 

I  had  seen  many  picture  women  in  my  life  but  none 
that  approached  the  Honorable  Florentine  Hadley  in 
any  way,  for  her  beauty  was  of  the  style  that  is  clas- 

41 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

sic  without  severity.  She  had  the  sweet  expression 
of  the  Venus  de  Milo;  and,  with  her  arms  lost  in  her 
cape,  she  was  just  as  graceful.  Like  the  Queen  of 
Sheba,  she  could  stand  the  test  of  much  adorning; 
yet  to  my  infatuated  eyes  she  looked  best  as  the  arm- 
less Milo,  appealing  to  you  in  a  lovely,  helpless  pathos. 

Few  women,  outside  the  marbles  of  the  Louvre, 
would  have  dared  to  wear  their  hair  plainly  parted  and 
smoothly  rolled  at  the  sides.  Fewer  still  would  have 
ventured  on  a  simple  loose  twist  at  the  back  of  the 
neck ;  a  silver  coil  of  hair  without  comb  or  ornament. 
Her  loveliness  was  of  the  fair  artistic  type  with  not 
a  flaw  to  mar  it  from  her  perfect  forehead  to  her  fault- 
lessly curved  chin.  Many  times  during  my  brief  stay 
in  London  I  had  heard  her  described  as  the  reigning 
beauty  and  I  had  seen  her  portrait  at  all  the  exhibi- 
tions. But  I  had  to  confess  that  the  best  of  them  did 
her  scant  justice.  She  was  ideal  even  at  close  range. 

I  was  so  busily  engaged  studying  her  face  that  I 
had  not  noticed  that  she  in  turn  was  studying  mine. 

"I  was  not  mistaken,"  she  said  with  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief, after  a  long  searching  look.  "I  kneV  I  would 
find  you  all  I  wanted  you  to  be.  And,  now,  that  we 
have  stared  at  each  other  long  enough,  we  can  begin 
our  conversation." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  hastened  to  say. 

"And  I  beg  yours,"  she  returned  with  a  smile. 
"Now  we  are  even.  But  I  wanted  to  know  you 
well ;  and  I  am  glad  you  stared  at  me  because  I  want 
you  to  know  me.  It  will  be  easier  for  me,  knowing 
your  position — and  that  I  can  pay  you — if  you  had 

42 


TO-MORROW  NIGHT  AT  NINE 

been  rich  I  should  not  have  dared — to  do  what  I  am 
going  to  do!" 

I  made  no  reply  to  this;  but  if  the  Honorable  Miss 
Florentine  thought  that  she  was  going  to  pay  me  for 
my  services  she  was  mistaken.  I  wanted  to  assure  her 
of  this  but  prudence  prompted  me  to  wait.  As  for 
the  rest  of  it — well,  never  mind — I  had  my  surprise 
coming ! 

I  looked  at  her.  She  returned  my  gaze  with  a  slow, 
lovely  smile  which  the  carriage  lamps  threw  toward 
me  like  sunshine  coming  out  of  shadow.  Yet  for 
some  reason  she  hesitated  to  speak. 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  begin,"  said  she,  "I  wish 
I  could  think  of  a  proper  way  to  say  what  I  want  to 
say  to  you." 

"Begin  any  way,"  I  said,  "and  I  shall  understand." 

"I  hope  so,"  she  begged  anxiously.  "But  if  I  could 
only  be  sure  of  it,  perfectly  sure." 

"You  can  be  positive,"  I  declared;  and  I  wanted  to 
add  that  I  could  tell  her  that  which  would  make  it 
seem  more  sure,  that  I  thought  I  loved  her  well 
enough  to  understand  her  now  and  always,  but  again 
prudence  cautioned  me  to  keep  quiet. 

She  stirred  her  cloak  and  the  bruised  lilies  threw  a 
perfume  across  her  face. 

"If  I  could  only  be  certain  of  it,"  she  began  again. 

Her  cheeks  flushed  so  painfully  that  I  felt  some 
assurance  on  my  part  was  necessary.  "Suppose  you 
begin,"  I  suggested ;  "and  before  you  have  gone  very 
far  I  may  be  able  to  convince  you  that  I  do  under- 
stand and  sympathize,  no  matter  what  it  is  you  have 
to  say." 

43 


I  glanced  once  more  at  her  face.  We  were  sitting 
side  by  side  in  a  closed  carriage  into  which  the  light 
merely  sifted  at  best;  but  even  in  the  dark  I  could 
have  said  that  she  was  losing  color ;  her  cheeks  looked 
as  pale  as  the  lilies  that  peeped  from  out  her  cloak. 
My  soul  ached  for  her  but  I  knew  she  must  proceed  in 
her  own  way.  That  is  the  advantage  of  being  thirty- 
three  and  experienced.  If  I  were  only  twenty — 

"How  old  do  you  think  I  am?"  she  asked,  interrupt- 
ing my  thought. 

"I  was  just  saying  to  myself  that  you  might  be 
twenty " 

"I  am  twenty-one.  That  is  I  shall  be  twenty-one 
to-morrow.  To-morrow  night  at  nine  o'clock!" 

"Nine  o'clock?"  I  exclaimed  as  though  that  were 
the  important  part  of  the  communication. 

"Yes!"  And  here  Lady  Florentine  hesitated.  "And 
that  is  just  what  I  brought  you  out  here  to  talk 
about." 

"I'll  talk  about  it  until  to-morrow  night  at  nine,"  I 
said  promptly. 

Fortunately  for  me,  perhaps,  her  lovely  ladyship  did 
not  catch  my  remark. 

"I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  it  because — because 
— because  by  to-morrow  night  at  nine — by  to-morrow 
night  at  nine — " 

She  stopped  short. 

"You  were  saying  that  by  to-morrow  night  at 
nine?"  I  repeated,  questioningly. 

"By  to-morrow  night  at  nine,  I've — I've  got  to  be 
married !" 

She  turned  in  the  brougham  and  looked  me  full  in 
44 


TO-MORROW  NIGHT  AT  NINE 

the  face.  Over  the  top  of  her  silver  fox  cape  her 
eyes  shone  like  blue  stars.  "I'm  going  to  be  married 
by  to-morrow  night  at  nine." 

I  had  lived  some  time  before,  and  I've  lived  some 
time  since,  but  I  am  free  to  confess  that  never  in  all 
my  life  have  I  suffered  such  a  moment  of  utter  col- 
lapse. So  it  was  for  this  that  she  wanted  me,  to  tell 
me  that  she  was  going  to  be  married.  Perhaps  she  had 
brought  me  to  consult  about  the  settlements.  Or — 
sudden  and  horrid  thought — to  ask  me  to  stand  guard 
as  detective  over  her  wedding  presents.  If  she  should 
ask  me  to  be  a  detective  at  her  wedding — if  she 
should ! 

"You  don't  say  anything,"  she  faltered.  "I  thought 
you'd  try  to  help  me  a  little,  to  make  it  easier  for  me." 

A  tear  shone  in  her  eyes  and,  in  good  Harvard  lan- 
guage, it  broke  me  all  up.  I  leaned  toward  her;  if 
I  had  dared  I  would  have  put  my  arm  around  her. 

"Do  let  me  help  you,"  I  exclaimed.  "Only  tell  me 
how  I  can  help  you!" 

She  wiped  the  tear  away.  Gladly  would  I  have 
done  it  for  her.  I  choked  a  little  and  the  atmosphere 
of  the  brougham  grew  unaccountably  warm. 

"Oh  t-thank  you,"  she  sobbed,  the  tears  of  relief 
bubbling  up,  "I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you.  I  was 
not  sure  you  would  do  it." 

"Do  what?"  I  asked  gently. 

"W-why,  marry  me!" 

Would  I  marry  her!  Again,  for  the  second  time 
that  night  my  spirits  dropped.  So  she  thought  I  could 
marry  her.  My  reply  was  prompt  and  sharp. 

"I  am  not  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  or  whatever  you 
45 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

call  it  in  this  country,  nor  a  clergyman,  nor  anything 
of  that  kind.  I  can't  marry  you,  my  dear  Honorable 
Miss  Hadley." 

She  laughed.  In  spite  of  her  agitation  the  little 
darling  had  the  temerity  to  laugh. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  marry  me  to — to  someone  else! 
I  meant  to — to  marry  me  to — to  you !"  She  stumbled 
so  horribly  that  she  had  to  stop,  but  her  meaning  had 
at  last  penetrated  the  recesses  of  my  stupid  brain, 
stupid  to  the  Nth  power. 

"Would  you  m-marry  me  to  you?"  She  stopped 
crying  and  waited  for  an  answer. 

Would  I  marry  me  to  her!! 

It  was  out  at  last ! 

"Yes!"  I  exclaimed.  "Yes,  my— my  lady,  I  will." 
I  was  about  to  add  "with  pleasure,"  but  the  whole 
thing  was  so  beyond  belief  and  beyond  expression  that 
it  seemed  useless  to  try  to  explain  that  I  was  pleased. 

For  years  my  mother  had  been  quizzing  me  about 
getting  married.  "Wait  until  the  right  girl  comes 
along,"  she  had  always  said,  but  she  ought  to  have 
put  it,  "Wait  until  the  right  girl  comes  along- — and 
proposes  to  you."  Well,  the  right  girl  had  come. 

"There's  something  else,"  she  said,  "something  that 
may  not  be  so  pleasant !" 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   MYSTERIOUS  AUNT  FAITH 

' '  TT\  ERHAPS  you  know  how  I  am  situated,"  she 

r"^      said   with   a  brave   apology   in   her   voice. 

-*-          "You  know  about  the — money,  and  how  I 

must  get  married  by  my  twenty-first  birthday  or  I — 

that  is — we — shall  lose  it  forever." 

I  did  not  know,  though  I  was  immensely  glad  of  the 
fact  on  any  terms,  and  I  told  her  so.  But  she  wanted 
to  tell  me  all  about  it. 

"The  story  takes  me  back  to  my  father's  marriage," 
she  said.  "My  mother  was  an  American, — a  Bos- 
tonian — and  from  her  I  get  my  determination." 

She  smiled  a  faint  little  smile  and  I  saw  that  she 
knew  Boston. 

"My  father,  a  titled  Englishman,  as  they  say  over 
there,  went  across  and  married  her.  She  was  wealthy, 
but  most  of  her  money  died  with  her;  I  never  exactly 
understood.  My  mother  was  not  very  happy  with 
him  and  she  took  me  over  to  America  to  live  with  her 
there  for  three  years  before  her  death.  That  is  why 
I  seem  more  American  than  English,  though  I  was 
only  fourteen  when  she  died ;  they  died  in  the  same 
year.  Even  when  I  came  back  I  had  an  American 
governess  for  a  while.  When  my  mother  was  gone 
there  wasn't  as  much  money  as  was  supposed — I  know 
I  am  talking  very  incoherently." 

47 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

She  threw  back  the  silver  fox  from  her  throat  and 
I  saw  that  the  story  was  not  easy  for  her  to  tell. 

"Never  mind  it,"  I  said  soothingly;  "some  other 
time " 

"No,  I  must  tell  it  now,"  she  persisted  with  a  de- 
termined lift  of  the  perfect  little  profile. 

"My  mother  had  many  American  relatives,  and 
among  the  rest  was  a  miner,  in  Helena,  Montana.  He 
died  just  after  my  mother  and  in  his  will  he  left  me  his 
fortune.  But  there  was  one  proviso,  which  was  that  I 
must  get  married  by  the  time  I  am  twenty-one.  He 
was  a  hard  man,  this  Helena  cousin ;  I  have  heard  my 
mother  tell  of  him.  Early  in  his  life  he  had  a  love 
affair  which  ended  disastrously;  and,  afterwards,  out 
of  pure  spite,  he  forced  marriages  upon  people.  He 
owned  an  immense  ranch  on  which  he  employed  many 
people,  yet  he  would  never  have  an  unmarried  person 
upon  his  place.  Those  who  were  not  married  when 
they  came  must  find  a  mate  immediately.  He  did  it 
to  make  them  unhappy,  he  said." 

"A  rather  original  way  to  go  about  it." 

"He  said  he  loved  to  tie  two  people  together  and 
watch  them  grow  to  hate  each  other." 

"We  will  fool  his  memory!"  I  said  promptly. 

The  girl  heard  me  and  a  full  realization  of  the  situ- 
ation, as  I  understood  it,  flashed  upon  her. 

"I  don't  think  you  quite  comprehend,"  she  ex- 
plained gently.  "I  must  get  married  to  save  the  for- 
tune ;  not  really  married  as — as  other  people  get  mar- 
ried— but  married  in — in  name  only — do  you  under- 
stand— a  marriage  only  in  name.  There  are  family 
reasons  why  we  must  not  let  so  much  money  go  away 

48 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  AUNT  FAITH 

from  us.  And,  though  it  is  unpleasant  for  me,  I 
cannot  see  my  way  to  do  otherwise." 

The  carriage  jolted  just  then  and  knocked  my  hat 
a  trifle  sideways,  but  I  let  it  rest  just  where  it  had 
fallen  over  one  ear. 

"I  have  a  choice  of  suitors,"  pursued  Florentine. 
"What  girl  in  English  society  has  not  ?  and  it  is  pos- 
sible that  I  have  more  than  my  share.  But,  sifted 
down,  I  have  really  only  one,  only  one  compelling 
one." 

"And  he  is?" 

"My  cousin,  Sir  Charles  Hadley — he  whom  you  met 
to-night.  For  reasons,  too  involved  to  explain,  I  must 
marry  my  cousin,  Sir  Charles,  by  this  time  to-morrow 
night  unless " 

"Unless?"  I  repeated  questioningly. 

"Unless  I  am  already  married  to  some  one  else." 

Marry  Sir  Charles !  Marry  that  monstrosity  in  hu- 
man form;  he  of  the  purple  complexion;  the  rasping 
voice  and  the  hand.  Impossible!  Yet,  from  what  I 
now  recalled  in  look  and  gesture,  Sir  Charles  was  wait- 
ing to  grasp  her.  As  well  hand  a  lily  to  a  hyena ! 

"You  shall  be  already  married,"  I  assured  her.  "And 
for  fear  something  may  happen  I  am  going  to  sug- 
gest that  we  slip  away  immediately  and  have  the  cere- 
mony performed." 

I  spoke  decisively,  for  the  gravity  of  the  situation 
now  dawned  upon  me.  I  knew  Sir  Charles,  and  I  had 
had  a  hint  of  his  unscrupulousness ;  so  to  save  this 
girl  from  his  clutches  was  now  my  duty,  the  first 
duty  of  any  man  in  my  position,  regardless  even  of 
his  own  feelings;  for  the  girl  next  to  me,  aside  from 

49 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

being  the  woman  I  loved,  was  helpless  and  in  a  plight, 
a  bad  situation  from  which  she  must  now  be  rescued 
at  any  hazard.  But  as  yet  I  could  see  no  hazard;  it 
was  quite  simple;  we  could  drive  somewhere  and  be 
married. 

The  girl  had  thought  out  a  better  plan. 
"We  are  on  our  way  to  the  house  of  Lady  Faith 
Hadley,  my  aunt,"  she  said.    "She  will  let  us  be  mar- 
ried there,  I  hope." 

"I  don't  see  any  reason  why  she  should  not." 

The  situation  was  an  unusual  and  a  trying  one,  but 
the  girl  smiled  bravely. 

"You  don't  know  Aunt  Faith." 

"But  I  shall  soon  know  her  since  we  are  on  the  way 
to  her  house  and  Jehu  is  going  rather  rapidly." 

"But  you  may  not  find  her  so  likeable  when  you 
come  to  meet  her." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Aunt  Faith  ?"  I  asked,  get- 
ting back  some  of  the  confidence  which  is  the  birth- 
right of  every  son  of  Columbia. 

"Oh,  she's  all  right,"  said  the  girl,  unconsciously  as- 
suming the  vernacular,  "but  a  little  peculiar  as  you 
will  see.  Years  ago,  when  Aunt  Faith  was  young,  she 
was  quite  a  belle  and  was  famed  for  her  beauty ;  she 
went  into  society,  and  King  Edward  who  was  then  the 
Prince  of  Wales  admired  her  and  asked  to  meet  her. 
Aunt  Faith  was,  of  course,  charmed,  and  in  course  of 
time  she  gave  a  dinner  for  the  Prince.  He  came  with 
his  retinue  and  Aunt  Faith  was  so  beside  herself  with 
joy  that  she  didn't  sleep  for  a  week  before  or  after. 
At  dinner  the  Prince  rallied  Aunt  Faith  on  being 
single  and  she  in  her  embarrassment  tried  to  think  of  a 

50 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  AUNT  FAITH 

ready  reply,  but  couldn't.  The  Prince  took  her  hesita- 
tion for  diffidence  and  was  delighted;  he  praised  the 
dinner,  and,  on  going  away,  told  Aunt  Faith  that 
Prince  Charming  would  come  some  day.  Aunt  Faith 
blushed  so  exquisitely  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  made 
a  prediction: 

"  'Prince  Charming  will  come  when  you  least  expect 
him ;  and  he  will  walk  in  at  the  dinner  hour !' 

"Aunt  Faith  bowed  low ;  he  would  come  at  the  din- 
ner hour !  It  was  as  though  the  Almighty  had  spoken. 
That  was  thirty  years  ago  and  every  night  since  she 
has  been  looking  for  him." 

"Looking  for  Prince  Charming?" 

"Yes,  she  has  been  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Prince 
Charming.  Aunt  Faith  keeps  her  house  in  town  open 
for  him  though  the  other  sisters  live  at  Wentstone 
Castle;  but  she  keeps  up  her  town  establishment  of 
servants  and  livery,  and  every  night  at  eight-thirty 
has  the  dinner  table  set  for  two.  It  is  perfect  in  every 
detail,  silver,  linen,  glass,  wine  and  menu — and  the 
covers  are  always  laid  for  just  two." 

"Has  Prince  Charming  never  arrived?" 

"No,  though  Aunt  Faith  makes  an  elaborate  toi- 
lette for  him  each  night.  At  promptly  twenty  min- 
utes after  eight  she  goes  down  into  the  drawing- 
room  and  sits,  fan  in  hand,  watching  the  door  and 
waiting  for  his  step.  A  footman  sits  in  the  hall 
waiting  to  open  it  before  the  bell  shall  ring.  Aunt 
Faith  waits  until  nine,  then  she  goes  into  the  din- 
ing-room and  eats  her  solitary  meal." 

"What  becomes  of  the  other  plate?" 

"It  remains  opposite  Aunt  Faith,  a  mute  re- 
Si 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

minder  that  Prince  Charming  may  come  to-morrow 
night." 

"And  the  next  night?" 

"It  is  the  same  thing  over  again." 

The  girl  stopped,  threw  back  her  head  and 
laughed,  showing  the  most  exquisite  pearls.  The 
thought  of  Aunt  Faith  was  enough  to  make  her  for- 
get her  own  troubles  for  a  minute,  and  the  relief 
of  a  laugh  was  needed. 

"How  old  is  Aunt  Faith  ?"  I  asked. 

"Sixty-one  years  old.  She  has  been  waiting,  sit- 
ting opposite  the  empty  plate  of  the  dilatory  Prince 
Charming  for  nearly  thirty  years." 

Again  Florentine  laughed.  But  this  time  my  face 
did  not  relax.  It  grew  solemn  instead,  for  the  pros- 
pect of  interviewing  Aunt  Faith  suddenly  became 
fraught  with  difficulties. 

"Does  she  expect  us?"  I  inquired. 

"Yes,  I  sent  a  messenger  to  her,"  said  the  girl, 
"and  at  the  same  time  I  dispatched  a  message  to 
the  Rev.  Jedediah  Pancoast  to  meet  us  there.  He 
will  be  waiting  when  we  arrive." 

Lady  Florentine  had  evidently  counted  upon  me 
and  my  heart  thrilled  at  her  confidence  and  her  un- 
conscious use  of  the  word  "we." 

"I  wish  you  had  'phoned  her  to  be  sure,"  I  ven- 
tured. 

"Telephoned  Aunt  Faith !"  exclaimed  the  girl,  go- 
ing off  into  another  little  burst  of  merriment,  "that 
shows  that  you  have  not  yet  grasped  the  peculiari- 
ties of  Lady  Faith  Hadley.  Never  has  my  aunt 
had  a  telephone  in  her  house,  nor  will  she  have 

53 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  AUNT  FAITH 

one  even  in  the  servants'  quarters.  The  Prince  of 
Wales  told  her  years  ago  that  he  did  not  think  the 
telephone  would  ever  be  practicable  for  home  use. 
And  to  this  day  Aunt  Faith  is  sure  that  it  is  not 
practicable.  She  wouldn't  try  one  for  a  Sepoy 
mine." 

Aunt  Faith  was  growing  more  and  more  formid- 
able, but  in  my  copybook  years  before  I  had  writ- 
ten the  words  "Faint  heart  never  won  Fair  Lady," 
and  the  line  came  back  to  me  now.  Little  did  I 
think,  at  that  time,  that  the  teachings  of  youth 
would  be  of  so  much  support  to  me  in  after  life. 

There  was  a  lull.  It  was  evident  that  the  car- 
riage was  slackening  its  pace.  Then  it  stopped  with 
a  bump  and  I  found  myself  looking  out  and  up  into 
the  windows  of  Aunt  Faith's  mansion. 

"Let  me  go  in  and  see  her  first,"  said  Florentine ; 
"you  wait  here  until  I  send  for  you." 

I  helped  her  out  of  the  carriage  and  up  the  front 
steps ;  before  I  could  press  the  button  the  door  flew 
open. 

"Wait !"  she  repeated.  Then  she  disappeared  in 
the  flash  of  light  and  the  door  shut  behind  her. 

Often  afterwards  I  pictured  that  open  doorway 
with  Florentine's  slim  form  outlined  in  it  like  a 
brilliant  figure  standing  against  a  sunset  glow. 

Little  did  1  know  that  before  I  should  lay  eyes 
upon  her  again  there  would  fall  upon  her  life  a  trag- 
edy of  circumstance  that  would  forever  change  the 
coloring  of  existence  for  her. 

I  stood  outside  the  door  and  waited,  but  she  did 
not  come.  1  could  hear  within  the  suppressed 

53 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

sound  of  voices,  one  rising  sharp  and  clear,  a  young 
voice,  very  like  Florentine's,  yet  so  agonized  that 
I  could  not  recognize  it;  the  other,  older  and 
quieter,  but  very  firm.  The  sounds  grew  stiller ; 
then,  above  the  low  murmuring,  there  rose  a  shriek, 
a  wailing  sob  that  broke  the  quietude  of  the  night 
and  died  away  as  abruptly  as  it  had  risen.  After 
that  I  listened  breathlessly,  almost  pressed  against 
the  door,  but  still  Florentine  did  not  return. 

A  Sphinx-like  hush  had  fallen  within;  it  was  as 
though  a  presence  had  passed  out. 


54 


CHAPTER    V 

I    PLAY    PRINCE    CHARMING 

AJNT    FAITH   lived   in   a   small   but  very   ex- 
clusive residence  in  a  very  exclusive  neigh- 
borhood.     But    the    thing    that    struck    me 
as  I  looked  up  at  the  house  was  its  festive  appear- 
ance, in   spite  of  its  deathly  stillness.     It  was  illu- 
minated from  top  to  bottom;  from  English  base- 
ment windows  to  the  top  of  the  Queen  Anne  roof 
the  yellow  beams  twinkled,  while  from  the  draw- 
ing-room windows  there   fairly   shot  out  comets  of 
light. 

"She  was  expecting  us,"  I  reasoned,  "yet  she 
does  not  open  the  door." 

As  Florentine  did  not  return  I  had  no  alternative 
except  to  wait,  but  the  shriek,  following  by  retreat- 
ing footsteps  and  the  sudden,  almost  deathly,  quiet 
filled  me  with  alarm. 

Suddenly,  breaking  on  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
an  upper  window  flew  open  and  there  was  a  quick 
order,  as  though  a  hurried  direction  were  being 
given.  The  coachman  who  had  been  standing  at 
the  curb,  jumped  upon  the  box  and  cracked  his 
whip,  and,  before  I  could  call  to  him,  he  had  gal- 
loped his  horses  to  the  corner  and  turned  quickly 
out  of  sight. 

I  was  alone  on  the  steps,  the  carriage  gone  and 
Florentine  was  still  inside  the  house. 

55 


I  could  endure  the  uncertainty  no  longer,  so,  at 
the  risk  of  injuring  my  cause,  I  touched  the  button. 

The  instant  I  did  so  the  front  door  flew  open  as 
though  touched  by  a  spring  and  a  bowing  footman 
invited  me  to  enter;  as  I  stepped  in,  a  lackey 
divested  me  of  hat  and  coat. 

Involuntarily  I  gazed  about  for  Florentine.  She 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen;  she  was  doubtless  in  the 
handsome  room  from  the  open  door  of  which  came 
a  brilliant  light  shading  to  gold  in  the  mirrored 
reflection  of  the  period  drawing-room. 

I  gave  my  name  to  the  footman.  Stepping  to 
the  drawing-room  door,  he  announced,  in  a  much 
drilled  voice,  "Mr.  Roman  Elliott!" 

An  elderly  lady  whom  I  recognized  at  once  as 
Aunt  Faith,  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  drawing- 
room.  She  was  dressed  in  a  quaint  fashion ;  her 
gown  of  grey  silk  was  festooned  with  lace  and  clus- 
ters of  pink  roses  held  its  soft  draperies.  It  did  not 
take  a  lace  expert  to  see  that  her  straight  old  shoul- 
ders were  folded  in  a  white  lace  shawl  worth  its 
weight  in  pearls.  In  her  left  hand  she  held  a  lace 
handkerchief  on  which  there  was  a  breath  of  rose ; 
in  her  right  hand  was  a  fan.  Hers  was  a  compelling 
personality. 

But  I  noticed,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  at  composure 
that  she  was  trembling  violently  and  the  hand  that 
held  the  handkerchief  was  shaking  like  an  aspen  as 
she  lifted  it  to  her  pale  lips. 

Lady  Faith  held  out  her  hand  with  the  fan  still 
in  it  and  I  took  it,  bowing  very  low  over  it.  At 
that  moment  I  thanked  my  stars  that  I  was  in  a 

56 


/  PLAY  PRINCE  CHARMING 

dress  suit  or  I  would  have  felt  like  a  chimney  sweep 
in  the  presence  of  a  Princess.  As  I  rose  I  glanced 
around  for  Florentine.  She  was  not  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

"Lady  Faith  Hadley,  I  presume  I  have  the  honor 
of  addressing?"  I  hazarded. 

"I  am  Lady  Faith  Hadley."  There  was  a  tremor 
of  expectation  in  the  fine  old  voice. 

"I  am  Roman  Elliott,  Mr.  Roman  Elliott,"  I 
repeated,  "and  I  came — came  here  to — see  your 
niece,  the  Honorable  Florentine  Hadley.  She  is 
here,  I  believe." 

Instantly  Lady  Faith's  smile  faded,  faded — 
froze ! 

It  seems  that  she  was  a  little  deaf  and  had  not 
caught  my  name  as  the  lackey  announced  it.  And, 
in  place  of  the  look  that  was  all  expectation,  there 
came  one  that  was  half  disappointment  and  half  anger. 
I  was  not  the  long  expected  Prince  Charming  after 
all! 

"My  niece  is  not  here,  Mr.  Elliott,"  she  said 
stiffly  and  with  a  total  change  of  manner. 

"But  she  was  here " 

"Yes,  she  came,  but  she  has  gone.  No !"  in  answer 
to  my  questioning  look,  "she  will  not  return !" 

"But  she  surely  left  some  word — some  message!" 

Lady  Faith  pondered.  A  look  of  craft  came  into 
her  countenance ;  she  was  a  woman  of  the  world 
and  keenly  alive  to  all  its  ways.  Save  for  her  one 
eccentricity — her  hallucination  about  Prince  Charm- 
ing— she  was  as  wide-awake  as  only  a  shrewd  old 
lady  can  be. 

57 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"She  left  no  word  except  to  tell  you  that  she 
thanked  you — and  to — go." 

Lady  Faith's  lips  closed  stubbornly  as  she  deliv- 
ered this  message. 

"But  you  knew  the — the  object  of  our  visit — her 
coming  and  mine — here  to-night.  Surely  she  left 
some  other  word  than  that  I  was  to — go !" 

"Yes,  yes,"  assented  Lady  Faith,  "I  understand 
perfectly.  My  niece  tried  to  leave  some — other 
message  but  could  not.  I  sympathize  very  deeply 
with  her.  But  the  fact  is — as  she  now  knows — that 
I  cannot  help  either  you  or  her." 

The  old  lady  glanced  at  the  footman  who  was 
seated  in  the  hall,  and  at  the  servants  waiting  be- 
yond to  serve  the  dinner,  and  she  lowered  her  voice 
until  it  sank  to  a  whisper  which  I  could  hardly 
hear  myself. 

"My  niece,"  she  said,  picking  her  words  deliberate- 
ly, "wishes  me  to  inform  you  that  the  arrangement 
with  you  is  impracticable,  though  she  did  not  know  it 
until  this  evening.  When  she  arrived  here  she  learned 
certain  things — certain  disclosures — that  make  it  out 
of  the  question." 

"But  she  must  be  married  by  to-morrow  night  if 
she  would  fulfill  the  terms  of  her  cousin's  will !" 

"She  expects  to  carry  them  out,"  insisted  the  old 
lady  obstinately,  while  the  silken  folds  of  her  gown 
shook  with  agitation,  "and  it  is  for  that  purpose  that 
she  has  just  left  this  house." 

"But  to  whom,  may  I  ask — you'll  pardon  me  for 
being  inquisitive,  but  circumstances  not  of  my  own 
seeking  brought  me  into  this  case,  and  I  feel  that  I 

58 


/  PLAY  PRINCE  CHARMING 

am  entitled  to  stay  until  the  young  lady  herself  dis- 
misses me — to  whom  is  she  going  to  be  married?" 

Aunt  Faith  unfurled  her  small  satin  fan. 

"My  niece  is  to  marry  her  cousin,  Sir  Charles 
Hadley!" 

"But  she  does  not  want  to  marry  him,"  I  made  bold 
to  say. 

"On  the  contrary,  she  is  most  anxious.  There  were 
some  family  matters — a  secret  of  which  she  was  never 
told — and  this,  when  she  learned  it,  immediately 
changed  her  view — she  should,  I  admit,  have  been 
made  aware  of — the  situation  before.  It  was  to  be 
sure  of  meeting  Sir  Charles  that  she  called  her  car- 
riage around  to  the  rear  entrance  of  this  house  just 
now;  she  could  not  lose  a  moment,  but  begged  me  to 
make  her  excuses  and  say  farewell  for  her." 

I  listened,  too  chagrined  for  speech.  "Surely,  Lady 
Faith,"  I  burst  out,  "this  has  not  your  approval." 

"On  the  contrary,"  she  observed  quite  haughtily,  "I 
commend  it  thoroughly.  My  niece  should  be  very 
thankful — under  the  circumstances — to  get  an  Eng- 
lish baronet — the  horror  of  her  situation — I  am  sure 
if  you  knew " 

"I  don't  want  to  know,"  I  flung  at  her.  A  storm  of 
words  sprang  to  my  lips,  but  I  held  it  back;  but, 
though  I  kept  my  tongue,  I  could  not  check  the  flood 
of  crimson  that  tided  my  face.  Lady  Faith  saw  it. 

"Your  protests  and  your  temper  are  alike  wasted," 
said  she.  "Florentine  has  made  her  choice — she  could 
make  no  other !" 

"This  is  monstrous,"  I  burst  forth,  unable  now  to 
pick  my  words.  "It  is  horrible,  an  act  without  con- 

59 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

science  or  justification.  Nothing  can  express  how  de- 
spicable it  is.  One  moment  the  girl  shrinks  in  deadly 
loathing  from  this  man  who  represents  to  her  all  that 
is  ugly  and  repulsive.  The  next  moment  she  accepts 
him  gladly  as  a  suitor,  is  eager  for  the  match  and — 
you  tell  me — goes  riding  off  into  the  country  at  night 
after  him,  in  order  to  tell  him  of  her  change  of  heart 
and  hasten  her  marriage.  Lady  Faith,  I  ask  you  if  it 
is  within  the  power  of  mortal  man  to  believe  such  a 
tale !  I  know  that  something  deeply  tragic  must  have 
occurred  to  make  her  change  her  mind  in  this  way." 

"Something  tragic  did  occur,"  admitted  Lady  Faith, 
"and  my  niece  was,  naturally,  much  upset  by  it.  At 
first  she  gave  way  to  tumultuous  emotion,  but  she  con- 
quered herself  and  is  now  ready  to  do  her  part." 

"And  when  is  she  to  be  married  to  Sir  Charles?" 

"To-night  at  Wentstone  Castle.  I  have  sent  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast  on  ahead." 

"Then  he  shall  know  all  before  he  performs  this 
ceremony,"  threatened  I,  "for  I  believe  it  to  be  a 
machination  of  Sir  Charles  Hadley." 

Lady  Faith  settled  her  head-dress  and  shrugged  her 
lace  covered  shoulders  with  a  gesture  of  dissent.  "I 
dine  in  a  little  while,"  she  said,  reverting  to  Prince 
Charming  and  casting  an  arch  glance  at  the  dinner 
table  and  another  glance  toward  the  front  door.  "And 
I  am  rather  expecting  a  guest  to  dine  with  me.  But 
if — if  the  guest  does  not  come — I  shall  eat  alone  and 
then " 

"What  then?"  I  asked  sharply,  for  I  was  not  going 
to  be  tamely  side-tracked  when  this  matter  of  Floren- 
tine's happiness  was  burning  its  way  into  my  heart. 

60 


/  PLAY  PRINCE  C 'H ARM ING 

"Then  I  am  going  out  to  Wentstone ;  Sir  Charles  has 
requested  me  to  be  there." 

"But  at  this  time  of  night?" 

"Sir  Charles  desires  it  and  his  word  is  law  in  this 
family." 

There  was  no  need  of  arguing  longer  with  Lady 
Faith,  so  I  went  out  into  the  hall  and  had  the  footman 
put  me  in  my  coat  and  let  me  out  of  the  door. 

Lady  Faith's  words:  "My  niece  is  determined  to 
marry  her  cousin,  Sir  Charles,"  echoed  in  my  ears. 
Suppose  it  should  be  true !  At  the  same  time  I,  as  her 
accepted  suitor,  had  a  right  to  demand  an  explanation 
at  her  own  lips. 

She  had  called  her  carriage  and  gone  to  Wentstone. 
Where  the  Castle  lay  and  how  long  a  drive  it  was  from 
London  I  had  not  the  vaguest  idea,  but  it  was  evidently 
not  far  or  Aunt  Faith  would  scarcely  have  planned  the 
midnight  journey. 

I  stood  on  the  steps  debating  my  next  move,  when, 
by  a  mental  process,  I  received  a  hint.  I  am  and  have 
always  been  a  believer  in  sub-conscious  phenomena. 
I  know  that  I  am  prompted  by  something  sub-mental 
to  do  the  thing  which  my  poor  conscious  brain — per- 
plexed by  exterior  things — could  never  have  conceived. 

My  eye  wandered  down  the  quiet  street,  deserted 
now  save  for  an  occasional  pedestrian.  Far  off,  going 
every  second  away  from  me,  were  two  horses.  They 
were  saddled;  one  was  ridden  by  a  groom,  the  other 
was  led. 

My  conscious  mind,  prompted  by  the  sub-conscious, 
worked  quickly. 

"Yes!  Why  not?"  I  asked  myself.  I  had  a  right 
61 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

to  follow  her  if  ever  a  man  had  a  right  to  follow  a 
woman. 

I  ran  down  the  stoop  and  along  the  street,  my  foot- 
steps making  a  distinct  ring  on  the  pavement.  The 
horseman  moved  steadily  along  ahead  of  me, 
his  horses'  hoofs  striking  the  smooth  pavement  with  a 
dull  patter.  Could  I  overtake  them?  I  dared  not 
shout,  but  I  could  whistle.  A  shrill  blast  woke  the 
quiet,  followed  by  another.  The  horseman  turned.  I 
stood  under  the  corner  lamp  and  waved  my  hat;  he 
saw  me  and  in  a  minute  had  reversed  the  horses' 
heads  and  was  coming  toward  me.  He  was  a  riding 
groom  returning  leisurely  from  a  late  park  les- 
son. 

"Can  you  give  me  a  lift?"  I  called  as  soon  as  he 
was  within  shouting  distance. 

"  'Ow  ?"  he  asked,  removing  his  hat. 

"A  lift;  a  horse;  I  want  to  ride  out  into  the  coun- 
try," I  exclaimed  impatiently.  "Do  you  know  where 
Wentstone  Castle  is?" 

"Yes,  sir,  since  I  'ave  worked  there,  sir!" 

"Then  take  me  there,  part  of  the  way  at  least ;  I  am 
trying  to  overtake  a  carriage  that  started  some  time 
ago.  Is  there  a  short  cut  to  Wentstone?" 

"They  'ave  made  one,  sir,  but  it  h'isn't  h'open  to 
the  public  yet,  sir." 

"Never  mind,  take  me  through  it;  we  can  ride  it,  I 
guess,  if  we  go  single  file.  Now  you  lead  on  and 
hurry." 

The  groom  rubbed  his  head  stupidly. 

"We  can't  'urry,  sir,  because  the  road  is  all  broke 
stone." 

62 


/   PLAY   PRINCE    C  PI  ARM  ING 

"Well,  go  as  fast  as  you  can,"  I  ordered,  "then  you 
can  leave  me  in  the  road  and  go  back  home." 

He  agreed  after  a  sufficient  delay  to  set  my  nerves 
tingling  with  impatience.  Then,  with  a  touch  of  the 
whip  he  started  his  pony  and  I  galloped  hard  after, 
prudence  thrown  to  the  winds, 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE   HADLEY   FAMILY 

A>  we  pounded  along  the  road,  which  changed 
rapidly   from  smooth  pavement  to  dirt  and 
then  to  the  stony  cross-cut,  I  had  an  abun- 
dance of  time  to  reflect. 

Occasionally,  where  the  stones  were  piled  high 
in  the  road,  we  got  out  and  led  our  horses;  but 
most  of  the  time  we  worked  our  way  stumblingly 
but  steadily  along  the  broken  path. 

"Hurry,"  I  ordered  the  groom. 

"Carn't  'urry,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "We'll  'urt 
these  'orses'  legs." 

He  spoke  truly,  for  a  minute  later  his  horse 
stepped  into  a  hole  and  went  down.  But  I  pushed 
on  past  him  impatiently,  leaving  him  to  follow  with 
his  limping  animal. 

My  acquaintance  with  the  lady  whose  carriage 
I  was  going  to  intercept  was  brief  enough ;  the 
meagre  details  of  it  loomed  up  through  the  shadows 
of  the  night,  making  fantastic  figures  of  light  and 
darkness.  Once  my  horse  slipped  and  plunged 
headlong,  but  I  pulled  him  up ;  even  the  difficulties 
of  the  way  did  not  prevent  me  from  reviewing  the 
whole  of  my  knowledge  of  the  girl. 

And  little  enough  it  was.  For  I  had  known 
Florentine  Hadley  by  sight  only  ten  days. 

64 


It  was  the  tea-hour,  of  the  very  day  of  my  arrival 
in  London,  that  I  met  Lady  Kensington  by  ap- 
pointment at  the  Savoy.  Scarcely  were  we  seated 
in  the  palm  garden  when  there  entered  the  shrubbed 
archway  a  tall  and  fashionably  dressed  young 
woman  behind  whom  puffed  a  short,  stoutish,  mid- 
dle aged  man  of  heavy  features  and  protruding  blue 
eyes.  The  man  carried  what  at  first  appeared  to 
me  to  be  a  parcel  awkwardly  wrapped  in  a  white 
napkin,  but  as  he  came  closer  I  saw  that  it  was 
his  own  hand  that  was  done  up  in  this  fashion ; 
and  that  the  napkin  was  an  elaborately  embroidered 
wrapping  cloth. 

But  it  was  on  the  young  woman  that  my  eyes 
were  fixed;  as  they  drew  closer,  I  noticed  that  she 
was  possessed  of  a  curious  and  most  absorbing 
beauty ;  while  the  man  was  equally  endued  with 
ugliness  of  a  disturbing  type.  That  he  was  much 
older  than  she  I  saw  at  a  glance. 

They  bowed  as  they  passed  us ;  and,  over  our 
table  there  floated  a  deep  fragrance  which  I  traced 
to  a  large  bunch  of  lilies-of-the-valley  which  the 
girl  wore  in  her  corsage.  For  she  was  only  a  girl  in 
years,  and  apparently  a  very  innocent  one  at  that. 
I  watched  her,  and  as  she  came  nearer,  the  im- 
pression of  youth  fulness  deepened ;  for  in  spite  of 
her  height,  her  carriage  and  her  self-possession,  she 
had  a  face  on  which  experience  had  left  no  marks 
and  an  expression  that  was  one  of  much  sweetness. 
Never  had  I  seen  a  face  of  such  almost  distressing 
loveliness. 

I  could  not  observe  her  features  distinctly  in  that 
65 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

passing  glance,  but  I  saw  that  they  were  quite 
classically  perfect,  small  delicate  nose,  round  chin, 
great  wide  blue  eyes  and  a  forehead  from  whose 
temples  the  hair  swept  back  in  waves  of  silver.  It 
was  her  hair  that  specially  caught  my  eye,  for  it 
was  blonde ;  not  yellow,  gold  nor  henna,  but  a  pure 
silver  of  a  shade  such  as  one  seldom  sees  except 
among  the  Marguerites  of  the  Rhineland  or  the  Ingas 
of  the  Norse. 

But  this  girl  was  English,  and  her  manner  as 
she  bowed  showed  her  to  be  one  of  untainted  breed- 
ing and  perfect  form.  Yet,  though  her  full  red  lips 
parted  easily  in  a  girlish  smile,  I  thought  there  was 
something  in  the  wide  blue  eyes  that  suggested 
anxiety,  and  I  could  have  sworn  that,  with  little 
effort,  the  anxiety  could  have  deepened  to  terror. 
But  her  loveliness;  how  winning  it  was! 

I  was  quite  prepared  for  Lady  Hensington's  next 
remark. 

"Lady  Florentine  Hadley,  the  beauty  of  the  past 
two  London  seasons !" 

"And  the  man?"  I  found  voice  to  ask. 

"Her  cousin,  Sir  Charles  Hadley.  Rumor  has  it 
that  they  are  engaged  to  be  married;  are,  indeed,  to 
be  married  very  soon." 

"I  don't  believe  rumor,"  I  said,  setting  down  my 
cup  with  a  rattle. 

"Isn't  your  tea  right?"  queried  Lady  Kensington. 
"We  have  better  tea  in  New  York  than  they  do 
here,  for  all  their  talk  about  their  English  tea." 

"No,  all  wrong;  I  mean  yes,  it's  all  right,  or  I 
hope  so." 

66 


THE    HADLEY    FAMILY 


"The  girl  is  as  fine  as  she  looks,"  gossiped  Lady 
Kensington,  not  noticing  my  diversified  statements, 
"but  she's  half  American.  Her  mother  was  a  Bos- 
tonian;  married  here  in  England;  took  the  girl 
back  to  school  there ;  then  died.  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it  some  time ;  but  the  girl  is  fine." 

I  agreed  with  her  instantly  that  the  girl  was  fine, 
and  I  could  have  added  the  comparative  and  the 
superlative,  for  it  took  no  more  than  one  glance 
at  Florentine  Hadley  to  tell  me  that,  though  en- 
dowed by  nature  with  everything  desirable,  she 
had  added  one  thing  more,  a  surpassing  grace  of 
character  and  an  unselfishness  which  acted  as  a 
Lydian  stone  to  bring  out  that  trait  in  others.  This 
gentle  spirit  gave  her  face  the  Madonna  touch 
which  made  it  so  positively  worshipful. 

"Who  is  this  Sir  Charles?"  I  forced  myself  to 
ask  after  another  gulp  at  the  bitter  cup. 

"Capitalist,  promoter,  miner,  banker,  rogue!  I 
don't  know  how  to  answer  exactly,"  laughed  Lady 
Kensington.  "But  I  know  he  was  a  younger  son  and 
that  he  went  out  to  India  to  earn  the  fortune  which  his 
father  could  not  hand  to  him.  Men  who  seek  a  thing 
usually  find  that  thing  if  they  don't  find  anything  else. 
It  is  a  case  of  ask  and  ye  shall  receive — be  it  good  or 
bad !  Sir  Charles  found  a  mine  in  India,  one  of  those 
now  rare  gold  mines  in  the  gold  country,  and  he  made 
a  fortune  out  of  it.  He  became  interested  in  the 
Sepoys  and  is  here  now  promoting  a  gigantic  mining 
project  in  which  everybody  in  London  is  invited  to 
invest  money.  He  is  shrewd  and  fortunate  but  he  has 
a  reputation  for  being  none  too  scrupulous.  But  un- 

67 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

scrupulousness  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  born  cripple,  I've 
heard." 

"The  born  cripple!"  I  exclaimed  in  some  surprise. 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Kensington,  "Sir  Charles  is  a 
cripple;  he  has  a  crippled  hand.  He  always  carries  it 
rolled  mummy  fashion  in  fine  linen,  extravagantly 
embroidered." 

"How  very  remarkable,  but  surely  such  a  fashion 
renders  the  hand  more  conspicuous !" 

Lady  Kensington  lifted  her  eyebrows;  "I'm  sure  I 
don't  know.  Some  say  he  carries  it  so  because  he  is 
proud  of  it  as  an  added  mark  of  distinction;  others 
declare  that  he  keeps  it  wrapped  as  a  reminder  that  he 
owes  the  world  a  grudge." 

"I'd  like  to  make  it  deeper,"  I  interposed. 

"He  owes  the  world  a  grudge  on  his  mother's  side  of 
the  house." 

"I  am  more  interested  than  I  can  tell  you,"  I  de- 
clared, "and  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  more." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Lady  Kensington,  on  whom  my 
admiration  of  Florentine  had  not  passed  unobserved. 
"And  I'll  humor  you  this  time  because  I  must  admit 
that  Sir  Charles  interests  me  also.  Ugly  as  he  is,  and 
bad  as  I  believe  him  to  be,  there  is  a  certain  fascina- 
tion about  his  personality  besides  his  unscrupulous- 
ness.  The  story  begins  with  his  mother,  dear,  timid 
Lady  Louise,  who  died  when  Sir  Charles  was  a  baby ; 
he  is  now  forty-two  or  thereabouts.  Lady  Louise  stood 
in  deadly  terror  of  her  husband  who  was  literally  her 
lord  and  master.  He  was  of  the  rigid  school  of  dis- 
ciplinarians who  believe  that  if  you  dislike  to  do  a 
thing  you  must  do  it — because  it  is  good  for  you  to 

68 


THE    HADLEY    FAMILY 


do  what  you  do  not  like  to  do.  He  prepared  many  a 
surprise  for  poor,  shrinking  Lady  Louise,  and  the  last 
one  brought  about  her  death." 

"How  perfectly  horrible!" 

"He  delighted  in  shocking  her  just  at  times  when  he 
should  have  been  most  careful." 

"I  hope  the  old  reprobate  is  dead!" 

"His  mortal  self  died  but  his  spirit  lives  again  in  Sir 
Charles." 

I  shivered  visibly ;  and  to  think  that  he  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to — her ! 

Lady  Kensington  deliberately  prepared  a  cup  of 
tea.  She  was  thoroughly  enjoying  the  interest  with 
which  I  listened  to  her  story,  and,  womanlike,  she 
wanted  to  keep  me  waiting. 

"Well,"  said  she,  beginning  at  last,  "one  day  Sir 
Peter  came  home  bringing  with  him  a  dinner  guest — 
this  is  ancient  history  you  know;  it  happened  years 
ago; — the  dinner  was  just  about  to  be  served  when 
Lady  Louise  sent  a  servant  down  begging  Sir  Peter 
to  excuse  her.  Sir  Peter  went  to  her  apartments  up- 
stairs to  know  the  reason  why  and  Lady  Louise  told 
him  that  she  had  that  day  learned  something  which, 
while  it  pleased  her  greatly,  had  somewhat  upset  her 
nerves,  and  she  must  be  careful,  oh  so  very  careful ! 
Accidents  had  not  been  unknown  to  her  and — the 
story  is  a  little — little,"  hesitated  Lady  Hensin- 
ton. 

"Go  on,  don't  mind  me;  I'll  try  to  forget  it!" 

"When  Lady  Louise,  with  the  smelling  salts  at  her 
nose,  told  Sir  Peter  that  she  could  not  go  down  to 
meet  a  strange  guest,  a  determined  look  came  into  Sir 

69 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

Peter's  eye.  It  was  a  good — an  especially  good — 
time  to  discipline  the  lady;  she  must  do  that  which 
she  did  not  want  to  do !  So  he  insisted ;  and,  in  spite 
of  her  protests,  he  forced  her  to  let  her  maid  hook  her 
into  a  dinner  gown ;  then,  trembling,  nervous,  shaking 
with  that  queer  creepy  chill,  she  followed  her  lord 
to  the  drawing-room.  There  sat  the  guest,  a  stranger. 
He  rose  at  their  entrance  and  stood  waiting  for  the 
introduction.  Sir  Peter  pronounced  the  names,  and 
Lady  Louise,  still  dazed  with  the  revelation  of  the  af- 
ternoon and  her  own  dizziness,  took  a  step  forward. 
She  held  out  her  right  hand  and  the  stranger,  after  a 
second's  hesitation,  put  his  hand  into  hers.  Lady  Louise 
took  it,  felt  it,  and  tried  to  give  it  a  little  shake.  In- 
stead she  glanced  at  it,  shrieked  and  crumpled  up  on 
the  floor !  Sir  Peter  let  her  lie  there — for  discipline — 
while  he  took  the  arm  of  the  guest  and  marched  him 
off  to  the  dining-room  where  they  sat  and  feasted  un- 
til past  midnight.  Meanwhile  poor  Lady  Louise,  slowly 
reviving,  dragged  herself  from  the  floor  and  upstairs 
to  her  own  room  where  she  took  to  her  bed  for  a 
week." 

"But  the  guest,  what  was  the  matter  with  him?" 
"It  seems  that  there  were  no  fingers  on  his  right 
hand  and  Lady  Louise  did  not  know  it  until  she  found 
his  hand  in  hers  with  her  fingers  closing  tightly  around 
the  crippled  thing. 

"For  the  next  months  she  led  a  life  of  coming  dread, 
and,  when  the  child  was  born,  her  ladyship  begged  to 
see  it ;  they  refused ;  she  insisted,  and  they  showed  it 
to  her.  There  were  no  fingers  on  its  right  hand.  And 
that,"  said  Lady  Kensington,  rising  from  the  tea  table, 

70 


THE    HAD  LEY    FAMILY 


"is  why  Sir  Charles  carries  his  right  hand  wrapped  in 
a  handkerchief." 

"Awful !"  I  exclaimed  as  I  helped  Lady  Kensington 
on  with  her  wraps.  "It  makes  me  long  for  a  breath  of 
fresh  air." 

As  we  left  the  Palm  Garden  I  managed  to  look  back 
at  Florentine — it  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  to  call  her  by  her  first  name — she  sat  facing  Sir 
Charles,  but  her  eyes  had  followed  us  to  the  door. 
Perhaps  it  was  my  fancy,  but  she  looked  like  a  bird 
in  a  snare,  its  wings  beating  against  the  cruel  cords. 

I  thought  of  the  conversation  again  that  night,  and 
the  look  of  terror  in  Florentine's  eyes  deepened  as  I 
pictured  them.  I  wondered  if  I  would  see  her  again; 
and  I  mentally  answered  yes.  Fortune  favored  me. 
The  very  next  day  I  called  upon  the  aged  Duchess  of 
Hume ;  I  had  promised  to  present  a  letter  from  some- 
one in  Baltimore.  The  Duchess  was  eighty  and  full 
of  gossip ;  her  friends  said  she  was  at  once  the  liveliest 
and  the  wickedest  old  personage  in  London;  certainly 
the  greatest  gossip.  She  was  bursting  full  of  talk  and 
dying  for  some  one  to  whom  to  tell  it.  Her  Grace 
was  delighted  to  see  me  and  at  once  poured  me  a  cup 
of  tea. 

By  adroit  steps  I  led  the  conversation  around  to 
the  Honorable  Florentine  and  her  cousin,  Sir  Charles ; 
for  I  must  confess  that  the  object  of  my  visit  to  this 
old  lady,  who  was  a  living  Blue  Book  of  English  soci- 
ety, was  to  learn  more  about  the  girl  whose  face  had  so 
deeply  stirred  me.  Know  the  Hadleys!  Of  course 
she  did.  "Charity  Hadley  was  Flower  Girl  at  my  wed- 
ding," said  the  gossipy  old  lady,  warming  up  to  the 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

subject.  "Charity  is  one  of  the  three  sisters,  Floren- 
tine's aunts,  and  she  lives  out  at  Wentstone,  the  Castle 
in  the  Woods,  not  far  from  London." 

"Tell  me  about  her,"  I  had  entreated. 

The  Duchess  settled  her  headdress.  She  had  been 
pouring  items  into  inattentive  ears;  but  here  was  a 
chance  to  have  a  close  listener.  "Lady  Charity  is  the 
aunt  of  the  Honorable  Florentine,"  she  repeated,  "and 
when  she  was  a  girl  she  was  very  beautiful,  almost  as 
beautiful  as  Florentine.  They  were  a  family  of  beau- 
ties when  I  was  a  young  matron.  But  Charity  was  the 
prettiest  of  all." 

"She  is  married,  I  suppose,"  I  remarked,  for  I  was 
determined  to  gain  all  the  information  possible  about 
the  relatives  of  the  lovely  young  woman  of  the  Savoy 
Palm  Garden. 

"No,  she's  single,"  said  the  old  lady;  "and  she'll 
stay  single,  too;  she's  had  her  romance." 

"Tell  it  to  me." 

The  Duchess  was  only  too  pleased.  "It  began  when 
Charity  was  a  school  girl,  away  at  a  convent.  She 
came  home  during  her  vacations  and  she  got  acquaint- 
ed with  the  curate  of  Wentstone.  Charity  adored 
goodness  and  fell  in  love  with  him  at  first  sight.  As 
soon  as  she  left  the  convent  their  engagement  was 
announced." 

"But  why  did  they  not  get  married ;  you  say  she  is 
single?" 

"No,  they  never  married,"  said  the  Duchess.  "It 
was  very  strange.  Charity  loved  him  and  he  loved  her, 
but  he  was  one  of  those  men  who  go  in  for  perfec- 
tion. It  was  odd  that  Charity  should  have  worshiped 

7? 


THE    HADLEY    FAMILY 


him  as  she  did,  for  he  was  the  most  peculiar  man  that 
ever  lived." 

"In  what  way  was  he  so  strange?" 

"Why,  he  believed  in  the  crucifixion  of  the  spirit, 
that  was  what  he  called  it.  His  theology  told  him  that 
we  were  put  here  on  earth  to  be  unhappy,  and  he 
worked  hard  upon  Charity's  spirit  to  make  her 
wretched." 

"Did  he  succeed?" 

"Almost,  and  he  would  have  succeeded  utterly  but 
that  he  died  just  as  Charity  was  beginning  to  be  miser- 
able. He  had  sinned  in  his  youth,  so  he  said,  and  he 
was  anxious  to  confess  his  sin  to  Charity.  He  used  to 
tell  her  how,  previous  to  entering  the  theological  semi- 
nary, he  had  had  his  experience  as  a  Lothario.  But 
that,  since  his  eighteenth  birthday,  his  conduct  had 
been  exemplary  and  he  wanted  her  to  know  all  about 
it." 

"Very  fine  of  him,  I  am  sure." 

"Charity  used  to  listen  wide-eyed  and  beg  him  not 
to  worry  so  for  his  past  sins.  But  the  worst  part  of  it 
came  when  he  used  to  urge  Charity  to  confess  her  im- 
perfections— the  faults  of  her  early  life.  As  Charity 
was  only  out  of  a  convent  a  year  and  had  been  spend- 
ing her  vacations  at  home,  drinking  tea  and  eating 
bread  and  butter,  she  needed  no  confessional.  But 
the  curate  could  not  be  convinced  of  it.  He  said  she 
was  too  pretty  to  be  innocent,  and  poor  Charity 
would  cry  because  she  had  nothing  to  confess. 

"She  must  have  loved  him  deeply." 

"She  did,  in  spite  of  everything,  though  he  wasn't 
much  to  look  at  either.  He  was  tall  and  thin,  bald 

73 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

headed  and  narrow  faced.  Narrow  was  the  word  to 
describe  him  all  through.  He  had  a  good  appetite  but 
he  didn't  believe  in  indulging  it,  so  he  lived  on  sand- 
wiches as  they  seemed  to  him  less  wicked  than  roast 
beef.  After  he  had  spent  the  afternoons  with  Charity, 
and  had  had  one  of  his  talks  with  her,  they  would  dine 
on  sandwiches  and  he  would  go  away.  Of  course 
Charity  cried  herself  to  sleep,  and  the  curate  would 
come  around  again  a  few  days  later  looking  taller, 
narrower  and  paler  than  ever." 

"A  fascinating  courtship!" 

"But  poor  pretty  little  Charity  enjoyed  it,  or  she 
tried  to  make  herself  believe  she  did.  It  was  the  re- 
ligious strain  in  the  Hadleys — they  had  a  grand  uncle 
who  went  into  the  church — cropping  out  in  Charity. 
When  the  curate  died  he  left  her  his  Oxford  Bible 
with  instructions  to  read  it  through  twice  a  year." 

"And  has  she  done  it?" 

"Oh,  dear  yes,  she  has  done  it,  and  faithfully.  She 
reads  it  as  he  taught  her  to  read  it.  I  called  on  her  a 
year  ago  and  she  was  reading  the  Bible  through  for  the 
word  Disgrace.  She  had  read  it  through  for  Despised 
and  for  Confusion  and  Condemnation  and  Despair, 
and  next  she  was  going  to  look  for  something  else — I 
don't  remember  what  it  was." 

"She  .is  reading  it  through  for  certain  words?"  I 
asked,  my  curiosity  increasing. 

"Yes,  don't  you  understand?  She  found  that  De- 
spised occurs  twenty  times  in  the  Bible,  or  was  it 
forty  times?  She  counts  them;  and  that  Confusion 
could  be  found  thirty,  or  maybe  it  was  seventy  times. 
The  curate  told  her  it  was  the  only  enlightened  way  to 

74 


THE    HADLEY    FAMILY 


read  the  Bible.  She  reads  it  pencil  in  hand.  Her 
Bible  is  always  with  her,  and  when  she  lays  it  down 
she  wraps  it  in  the  black  silk  handkerchief  which  the 
curate  used  to  wear  around  his  neck ;  she's  done  it  for 
thirty  years." 

"Then  Lady  Charity  is  fully " 

I  might  have  added  fully  able  and  old  enough  to 
avoid  mournful  entanglements  in  future,  when  the 

I           door  opened  and  a  guest  was  announced,  and  I  was 
cut  off  from  further  queries. 
But  I  returned  in  a  day;  making  some  trivial  ex- 
cuse concerning  the  Baltimore  family.     I  wanted  to 
hear  more  about  the  Hadleys. 

I  led  the  conversation  back  to  them.  The  old  Lady 
did  not  remember  that  she  had  gossiped  about  them  the 
day  before,  but  was  only  too  ready  to  talk.  Oh,  yes ! 
She  remembered  the  old  Duke  of  Hadley,  dead  these 
sixty  years  or  more.  He  had  been  a  man  with  a  domes- 
tic tragedy  in  his  life.  She  would  tell  me. 

The  story  as  it  stamped  itself  on  my  mental  reserva- 
tion was  that  the  old  Duke  of  Hadley,  having  married 
late  in  life,  wanted  an  heir,  and  when,  after  ten  years 
of  wedded  life,  none  had  appeared,  he  took  to  upbraid- 
ing his  spouse.  He  stormed  and  she  wept. 

Then,  gentleman  fashion,  he  wreaked  his  spite  on 
living  things  and  for  weeks  he  would  be  off  trapping 
and  shooting  wild  animals.  During  his  visits  home 
he  spent  his  days  adding  to  his  gun  collection,  which 
soon  grew  to  be  the  finest  in  England. 

One  day  the  Duchess  whispered  something  to  him, 
something  she  had  not  dared  to  say  before  for  fear  of 
false  alarm,  and  the  Duke  shouted  with  joy.  Then  fol- 

75 


lowed  great  days  in  the  Castle.  The  Duke  shot  no 
more  but  spent  all  his  time  collecting  guns — for  the 
heir.  "He  shall  be  a  famous  sportsman,"  he  declared. 

Then  one  night  there  was  commotion  in  the 
Castle  and  servants  flew  in  all  directions.  The 
Duke  sat  in  the  library  surrounded  by  his  guns  and 
waited.  After  awhile  a  nurse  opened  the  door. 

"It's  a  girl,"  announced  she. 

"Hell!"  exclaimed  the  Duke. 

In  a  few  minutes  another  nurse  came  running. 

"It's  another  girl,"  said  the  nurse. 

"Double  Hell !"  yelled  the  disappointed  Duke. 

A  third  time  the  nurse  opened  the  door;  "It's 
three  girls,"  she  whispered,  terrified. 

"Hell !  three  times  Hell,"  roared  the  outraged 
Duke.  And  straightway  he  grabbed  the  gun  nearest 
him  and  disappeared.  It  was  three  months  before 
he  came  home.  And,  meanwhile,  the  Duchess,  re- 
covering slowly,  named  the  little  girls  Faith,  Hope 
and  Charity.  She  said  she  wanted  the  Christian 
graces  to  be  in  the  family  somehow. 

When  the  Duke  came  home,  he  was  testy  enough. 
He  stormed  and  stormed  and  would  not  eat.  One 
morning  he  got  back  on  the  old  topic  of  his  disap- 
pointment, and,  rising  from  the  breakfast  table,  he 
advanced  toward  the  Duchess  shouting  and  shaking 
his  fist. 

"I  wanted  a  boy,  I  tell  you ;  I  wanted  a  boy !  I 
wanted  a  boy  so  I  could  will  my  guns  to  him,  be- 
cause they  are " 

There  was  a  gurgle  in  this  throat  and  the  old  man 
sank  to  the  floor  in  a  seizure.  Then  came  a  sort  of 

76 


THE    HAD LEY    FAMILY 


sleep  or  coma  which  lasted  two  years.  At  the  end 

of  two  years  he  opened  his  mouth  and  said:  " 

great  guns !"  Then  he  slowly  died  and  was  laid  in 
the  Hadley  vault,  where  he  has  slept  over  sixty 
years.  As  for  the  guns,  they  had  drifted  around 
until  they  had  come  into  the  possession  of  Sir 
Charles. 

The  valetudinarian  Duchess  of  Hume  cackled 
merrily  as  she  told  me  the  story;  and  soon  after  I 
came  away.  It  was,  indeed,  an  eccentric  family  out 
of  which  Florentine,  exquisite  flower  of  a  long  line 
of  English  ancestors  had  blossomed  as  an  exotic. 
Her  mother  was  an  American,  and  this  fact  would 
account  for  the  sprightliness  which  had  been  so 
noticeable  in  her. 

I  had  seen  her  daily  since  for  eight  beautiful, 
blessed  days ;  and  my  first  impression  of  her  that 
she  was  that  rare  thing,  a  reigning  beauty  with 
a  heart  of  gold,  had  but  deepened  in  my  mind. 

I  touched  my  horse  and  pushed  along,  for  our  pace 
had  been  slow  but  steady. 

My  reflections  were  broken  by  the  groom: 

"'Ere  you  h'are,  sir!" 

We  had  reached  the  end  of  the  cross  cut  and  were 
at  the  broad,  main  highway. 

"Is  this  the  road?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  straight  road  to  Wentstone,  sir." 

"Very  well!     Now  you  may  go." 

I  slid  off  my  horse  and  handed  him  the  reins. 

"I  shall  not  need  the  horse  again." 

The  groom  hesitated ;  the  night  was  dark,  the 
rain  was  falling  and  he  was  leaving  me  in  the  mid- 
77 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

die  of  a  deserted  country  road,  far  from  human- 
kind. 

"Shall  I  wait,  sir?" 

"No!  you  can  go!"  I  repeated  sharply,  "and  here's 
for  your  trouble." 

The  man  took  the  money,  tipped  his  hat,  and, 
after  the  fashion  of  English  servants,  obeyed  with- 
out further  question,  leaving  me  standing  there,  in 
my  dress  suit,  in  the  drizzling  night. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE   BLACK   BAG 

1  STOOD  in  the  open  peering  toward  London ; 
had  I  mistaken  the  rapidity  with  which  her 
carriage  would  travel  and  had  she  passed  me 
and  driven  on  to  the  Castle?  Which  way  should 
I  go? 

My  search  of  the  road  was  rewarded  by  the 
sound  of  horses'  hoofs;  they  grew  more  distinct 
until  I  realized  that  they  were  very  close;  the  road 
was  so  dark  they  were  almost  upon  me  before  I 
recognized  the  coachman  and  the  correct  livery  of 
the  Hadley  family. 

I  lifted  my  hand  for  the  coachman  to  stop;  he 
remembered  me  at  once,  and,  though  he  must  have 
wondered  at  finding  me  here  in  the  open  road, 
without  horse  or  equipage,  he  pulled  up. 

I  opened  the  carriage  door.  There,  crouched  in 
a  corner,  as  I  had  expected  to  find  her,  was  Floren- 
tine. But,  though  I  surmised  that  she  would  not 
be  in  a  happy  mood,  I  was  not  prepared  for  such 
an  utter  abandon  of  misery  as  that  in  which  she 
was  plunged.  She  had  flung  off  her  cloak  and 
with  her  head  buried  in  her  gloved  hands  she  was 
sobbing  convulsively — hysterically. 

"Florentine !"  At  sound  of  my  voice  she  lifted 
her  head ;  I  do  not  think  she  noticed  that  I  called 

79 


her  by  her  first  name.  1  stepped  into  the  carriage 
and  shut  the  door.  She  turned  on  me  fiercely. 

"You  must  not/'  she  cried.  "You  cannot!  I  for- 
bid you  to  come !" 

The  horses  had  started  and  the  carriage  was  jolt- 
ing over  the  rough  road ;  I  waited  for  her  to  become 
quiet. 

"Tell  me  what  is  the  matter,"  I  said  as  her  sobs 
ceased.  "I  am  entitled  to  know;  it  is  no  more  than 
right — that  you  should  explain." 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell;  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  marry  my  cousin !" 

She  was  making  an  effort  to  regain  her  composure 
and  was  feigning  a  coolness  which  I  knew  she  could 
not  feel. 

"Do  you  want  to  marry  him?"  I  asked  in  some 
chagrin. 

She  observed  my  tone  and  tried  to  keep  her  voice 
as  steady  as  my  own. 

"Yes,  it  is  my  desire  to  marry  him " 

"And  you  love  him?" 

She  evaded  the  question. 

"I  shall  love  him — perhaps, — but  I  think  I  am 
most  fortunate  in  having  him  offer  me  his  hand — 
he  must  be  deeply  in  love  with  me — knowing  our  fam- 
ily secret!" 

Her  voice  broke  in  another  uncontrollable  sob. 

"What  is  this  dreadful  thing  that  has  happened?" 
I  asked.  "What  did  Aunt  Faith  tell  you  that  so 
changed  you?  Can  you  not  confide  in  me?" 

She  cried  piteously,  with  her  face  buried  in  her 
80 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF   THE  BLACK  BAG 

hands:  "Oh,  let  me  shut  it  out — the  disgrace — it 
is  too  awful — awful." 

The  sound  of  her  weeping  filled  the  carriage. 

I  ventured  to  put  my  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Florentine,"  I  protested,  "I  love  you  too  well 
to  have  you  sacrifice  yourself;  though  we  are  little 
more  than  strangers,  as  time  is  counted,  yet  we  have 
lived  as  much  as  many  persons  live  in  years.  I  speak 
to  you  not  only  as  a  man  speaking  to  the  woman  he 
worships,  but  as  a  brother  would  advise  a  little  sister. 
If  you  love  Sir  Charles — if  his  ugliness — his  brutal 
temper — his  hand — none  of  these  things  disgust  you!'' 

It  was  a  wicked  thrust  and  I  flush  at  it  to  this  day. 
But  I  was  little  prepared  for  its  electrical  effect 
upon  Florentine.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  had 
grown  to  abhor  the  hand ;  perhaps  some  drop  of  the 
blood  of  Lady  Louise  who  had  bequeathed  the 
crippled  fingers  to  her  child  rushed  red  through  her 
veins ;  but  she  gave  a  wild  shriek,  and  throwing  up 
her  arms,  she  fell  back  in  the  carriage  gasping  for 
breath. 

"Forgive  me!"  I  pleaded.    "I  did  not  know " 

"Oh  the  awful  hand,  the  wicked  face,  the  terrible 
voice,  I  shall  go  mad — I  shall  die !" 

"Be  quiet,  Florentine,"  I  commanded,  "and  prom- 
ise me  that  you  will,  at  least,  not  let  them  perform 
the  marriage  ceremony  to-night." 

She  agreed,  though  she  did  not  half  know  what 
she  was  saying;  and,  then,  I  tried  to  get  out  of  her 
the  terrible  secret  which  had  so  changed  her. 

But  she  would  not  tell  me;  on  this  point  she  was 
obdurate. 

81 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

I  talked  of  various  things,  and  soon  she  was  quite 
herself  again.  Perhaps  it  was  the  hypnotism  of 
love;  maybe  it  is  the  magnetism  of  youth,  but  the 
mind  rebounds;  and  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
time  I  had  wrung  from  her  a  laugh,  while  her  ex- 
quisite smiling  lips  assured  me  that  if  left  to  herself 
she  would  not  marry  Sir  Charles  and — more  to  me — 
that  she  would  try  to  carry  out  our  marriage  con- 
tract. 

"Do  you  love  me?"  I  asked  abruptly. 

"I  have  loved  you  for  ten  days,"  she  replied  in- 
tensely, "ever  since  the  time  I  first  saw  you  in  the 
Palm  Garden  of  the  Savoy  with  Lady  Kensington." 

It  was  love  at  first  sight  with  her  as  with  me.  But 
this,  while  unusual  enough  under  ordinary  conditions, 
strange  to  say,  provoked  no  comment  from  me  now. 
I  had  gone  out  to  her  too  wholly  and  unreservedly  to 
be  surprised  that  she  should  recognize  me  in  re- 
turn. 

"Then,  if  the  aunts  will  give  their  consent,  why 
can  we  not  be  married  here  at  Wentstone  as  we 
proposed  ?" 

"They  will  not  agree,"  she  said  decidedly.  "Oh, 
you  do  not  know  the  awful  situation — the  awful 
disgrace  that  hangs  over  me — and  Sir  Charles  will 
expose  it — and  tell  all  London  to-morrow — if  I  do 
not  marry  him." 

"And  that  is  what  Lady  Faith  told  you?" 

"Yes,  oh,  yes!  And  she  begged  me  to  marry 
Cousin  Charles — if  he  were  to  tell — it  would  kill  us 
all." 

"And  he  will  keep  quiet?" 
82 


THE  ADVENTURE   OF   THE  BLACK  BAG 

"If  I  marry  him — not  otherwise — he  offers  me  no 
choice  but  that." 

"Someone  ought  to  murder  him!''  I  exclaimed, 
closing  my  fists  and  clinching  my  teeth. 

"Murder,  oh  no,"  she  shivered.  "But  he  is  leaving 
no  stone  unturned — and,  now,  Aunt  Faith  is  helping 
him." 

"Would  you  marry  me  if  you  were  free  to  make  a 
choice?"  I  asked. 

Her  face  flushed.  "Yes !"  she  uttered  softly.  And, 
then,  in  a  tone  of  girlish  despair  she  wailed,  "Oh — you 
do  not  know — or  you  would  not  ask  me — I  am  not 
what  you  think  I  am." 

The  blood  leaped  in  my  veins ;  she  loved  me ;  her 
heart  was  mine.  I  cared  not  for  Sir  Charles. 

"If  they  will  consent  it  shall  be  with  their  consent; 
and  if  they  do  not  it  shall  be  without !" 

Her  face  took  on  a  lovely  blush.  She  was  neither 
a  vacillating  woman  nor  a  coquette ;  but  in  few  lives 
does  there  ever  come  a  moment  requiring  more  de- 
cision ;  certainly  in  her  young  life  there  had  never  be- 
fore come  a  situation  so  fraught  with  conflicting  emo- 
tions ;  and  she  knew  not  what  to  do ;  she  leaned  toward 
me,  but  the  terrible  burden — the  new  burden — weighed 
her  down. 

"I'm  going  to  marry  you,"  I  said  with  determina- 
tion, "unless  you  yourself " 

"I  could  not  forbid  you  if  I  would,"  she  replied. 

And  that  is  all  she  would  say. 

"We  must  go  out  to  Wentstone,"  she  added  after  a 
minute's  thought.  "It  is  the  only  thing  to  do.  But  it 

83 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON   THE    WALL 

is  a  terribly  long  distance,  nearly  an  hour's  drive  from 
here — and  you're  thinly  dressed ;  you'll  be  cold." 

"Who  said  so?"  I  responded,  buttoning  my  light 
coat  around  me  in  the  sharp  wind  that  whistled 
through  the  carriage  windows.  "It's  you  I'm  thinking 
about,  just  now." 

"I'm  warm  as  a  tea  cake,"  she  said  brightly,  "and 
I  don't  mind  the  drive.  But  it's  awfully  good  of  you 

— to  help  me "  She  tried  to  speak  calmly,  but  her 

tragedy  crept  into  her  voice. 

Her  voice,  when  she  said  that  she  was  not  what  I 
thought  she  was,  recurred  to  me.  but  I  dismissed 
it. 

"Stop !"  I  said,  "there's  one  thing  more.  The  Rev. 
Jedediah  Pancoast!" 

"Did  Aunt  Faith  see  him  ?" 

"Yes,  and  she  told  him  to  go  on  out  to  Wentstone. 
Do  you  suppose  he  will  wait  for  us  ?" 

The  girl  laughed,  but  it  was  a  laugh  with  more 
weariness  than  mirth  in  it. 

"We'll  get  there  before  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast,"  she 
assured  me. 

"How  do  you  figure  that?"  I  asked.  "He  must 
surely  have  had  half  an  hour's  start  of  us." 

"You  don't  know  Mr.  Pancoast;  and  what's  more 
important  you  don't  know  his  horse.  If  I  were  a  man 
I'd  bet,"  she  said  with  a  merry  twinkle,  "I'd  bet  that 
we  will  be  there  an  hour  ahead  of  Mr.  Pancoast." 

"What  is  he  driving?"  I  ventured  to  ask. 

"He's  driving  Jephtha's  Daughter.  Jephtha  was  slow 
enough,  but  Jephtha's  Daughter  is  worse ;  Jephtha 
dropped  dead  the  night  of  Aunt  Hope's  wedding  and 

84 


THE   ADVENTURE   OF   THE  BLACK   BAG 

since  then  Mr.  Pancoast  has  driven  Jephtha's  Daugh- 
ter." 

"I  don't  want  to  seem  inquisitive,"  I  remarked,  "but 
would  you  mind  telling  me  how  long  ago  that  was  ?" 

"Nearly  thirty  years  ago,"  said  Florentine.  "And 
you  needn't  apologize  for  asking  me ;  Jeptha's  Daugh- 
ter is  not  at  all  sensitive  about  her  age.  She  is  very 
well  preserved  and  she  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast  have 
an  understanding.  When  she  goes  to  sleep  Mr.  Pan- 
coast  wakes  up.  And  when  Mr.  Pancoast  sleeps 
Jephtha's  Daughter  wakens." 

"How  did  they  think  of  so  brilliant  an  arrange- 
ment?" I  queried. 

"Oh,  now  you  take  me  into  the  depths  of  a  parish 
disgrace,"  pursued  Florentine,  waxing  warm,  woman 
fashion,  over  a  scandal.  "Once  upon  a  time  they  used 
to  doze  off  anywhere.  But  one  day,  when  Mr.  Pan- 
coast  was  asleep,  Jephtha's  Daughter  stopped  and  took 
a  nap  also.  It  happened  to  be  in  front  of  a  Public 
House,  and  when  Mr.  Pancoast  woke  up  one  of  the 
vestry  was  shaking  him.  'Good  thing  I  happened  to 
be  passing,'  said  the  vestryman.  Mr.  Pancoast  pro- 
tested, but  the  vestryman  insisted  upon  getting  into 
the  buggy  and  driving  Jephtha's  Daughter  home.  Ever 
after  that,  he  would  wink  at  Mr.  Pancoast  and  tap  his 
forehead  and  say :  'Never  mind ;  don't  apologize ;  I've 
been  there  myself !' 

"After  that  experience  Mr.  Pancoast  made  an  ar- 
rangement with  Jephtha's  Daughter.  Now,  before  he 
climbs  into  the  buggy,  he  takes  hold  of  her  ear  and 
whispers  something  into  it.  Perhaps  he  tells  her  she 
can  take  her  nap  first." 

85 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

As  she  talked,  I  had  time  to  note  the  gladness  of  her 
nature  as  revealed  by  her  voice,  which  was  clear  and 
true;  and  she  had  that  rare  gift  in  woman,  a  delightful 
sense  of  humor. 

"I  suppose  you  are  wondering  how  I  came  to  speak 
to  you  this  evening,"  she  said,  lapsing  again  into  a 
half  anxious  mood.  "It  must  seem  to  you  almost  as 
though  I  had  selected  a  total  stranger  and  that  it  was 
most  bold  of  me;  but  you  were  not  a  stranger,  for 
Lady  Kensington  told  me  all  about  you  long  ago.  She 
told  me  how  she  brought  you  over  from  the  States  to 
help  with  her  daughter's  wedding  presents  and  how — 
er — highly  she  had  valued  your  services  and  how 
much — er — she  had  paid  you  to  watch  the  Hepworth 
alone.  You  see,  I  could  not  help  trusting  you." 

The  Hepworth !  If  I  had  not  been  so  deeply  in  love 
a  pang  of  reproach  would  have  shot  through  me.  But 
I  felt  no  pang. 

"And  she  told  me  something  else.  She  told  me  that 
she  valued  you  so  much  that  she  took  you  with  her 
wherever  she  went — not  only  for  safety,  for  you  know 
she  wears  valuable  pearls — but  even  for  companion- 
ship." 

How  self-sacrificing  of  Lady  Kensington.  Just  wait 
until  she  secures  my  valued  companionship  at  another 
social  function! 

"And  when  she  told  me  about  you,  I  knew  I  should 
like  you  and  that  I  could  trust  you.  But  that  wasn't 
the  only  reason,  for  I  admired  your  face,  too.  I  don't 
know,"  she  added  still  trying  to  justify  herself  in  my 
eyes,  "just  why  it  was  that  I  liked  you  so  much." 

"You  needn't  try  to  discover,"  I  said  with  as  warm 
86 


THE  ADVENTURE   OF   THE  BLACK  BAG 

a  glance  as  I  dared  venture.    "The  fact  that  you  like 
me  is  enough  for  me." 

But  she  seemed  determined  to  clear  herself  still  fur- 
ther in  my  eyes  of  any  appearance  of  forwardness. 

"It  was  almost  as  if  I  had  confidence  in  you  at  first 
sight,"  she  declared.  "And,  then,  when  I  saw  you  at 
the  Carlton  and  at  the  Savoy,  having  tea  with  her  and 
looking  over  papers,  I  knew  I  could  trust  you  with 
my — my  affairs.  And  you  must  pardon  me  for  going 
about  less  chaperoned  than  other  English  girls  of 
title;  my  position  as  the  daughter  of  an  American 
mother  has  made  me  a  little  different  from  them." 

"I  know  that  no  moment  has  ever  been  as  happy  as 
the  present  one;  but  why,"  I  asked,  "why  did  you 
change  your  mind  about  marrying  me?  you  like  and 
trust  me — and  I  ask  no  more !" 

Florentine  turned  squarely  in  the  carriage  and 
looked  me  full  in  the  eyes ;  her  face  was  the  color  of 
poppy  leaves  but  she  spoke  clearly  and  bravely. 

"Because  you  are  an  honest  man,  Mr.  Elliott; 
though  poor,  you  and  the  women  of  your  family,  your 
mother — your  sisters  if  you  have  any — all  are  hon- 
orable women  ?" 

She  paused  as  if  for  a  reply. 

"That  is  all !''  she  said  stopping  abruptly.  "If  I 
should  tell  you  more  you  would  stop  the  carriage — 
you  would  refuse  to  sit  here  by  my  side — you  would 
leave  me " 

"Stop !''  I  exclaimed,  "not  all  the  saints  above  could 
come  down  here  and  tell  me " 

"Whoa !  Whoa !"  The  brougham  lurched  to  one 
side  and  stopped  with  a  sharp  bump. 

87 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  cried. 

"I  will  see!" 

I  stuck  my  head  far  out  of  the  window  in  the 
drizzly  black;  the  road  was  heavy  and  the  night  star- 
less. There  was  no  one  to  be  seen  but  I  could  hear  the 
stamping  of  the  startled  horses.  Just  as  I  was  about 
to  open  the  carriage  door  and  step  out  to  ascertain  the 
cause  of  the  disturbance,  someone  opened  it  from  the 
outside  and  saved  me  the  trouble.  A  hand  apparently 
from  nowhere  was  thrust  out  and  at  the  same  time 
something  was  thrust  inside  and  the  door  was  slammed 
with  a  bang.  Simultaneously  I  uttered  a  yell. 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  Florentine,  clasping  me 
in  the  darkness.  "Oh,  are  you  hurt?" 

"Nothing !    A  mere  trifle !    My  foot !" 

"What  was  it?" 

But  I  didn't  answer  her  for  I  had  thrown  the  weight 
off  my  foot  and  was  out  of  the  carriage.  I  wanted  to 
know  who  lurked  in  the  road  at  that  time  of  night. 
Nothing  was  to  be  seen;  I  ran,  followed  by  the  foot- 
man, down  a  narrow  footpath  which  dropped  suddenly 
into  a  ravine;  I  called,  but  there  was  no  answer. 
Slowly  searching  each  side  of  the  path  I  retraced  my 
steps  to  the  carriage  road.  Florentine  was  leaning  out 
of  the  door  of  the  brougham. 

"Do  not  go  away  again,"  she  begged.  "I  am  awfully 
frightened." 

I  wanted  to  explore  further  but  her  pale,  beautiful 
face  in  its  silver  frame  held  me  fascinated,  and  she 
needed  me.  I  got  back  in  the  carriage  and  shut  the 
door.  Down  at  my  feet  was  the  great  black  bag  which 
had  been  thrown  into  the  carriage  door,  apparently 

88 


THE  ADVENTURE   OF   THE  BLACK  BAG 

right  out  of  the  depth  of  the  night,  smashing  my  foot 
in  its  descent.  I  got  hold  of  the  handle  and  tried  to 
lift  it. 

"It  weighs  a  hundred  pounds,"  I  said,  tugging  at 
it.  "It's  a  wonder  that  the  handle  holds." 

"Let  me  help,"  said  Florentine,  stripping  off  one  of 
her  long  gloves  and  reaching  down  for  a  handle. 

"I  can  manage  it,"  I  answered.  "But  where  do  you 
suppose  it  came  from ;  and — and  don't  put  your  glove 
back  on !"  as  she  started  to  out  her  hand  back  in  her 
glove. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  ?"  she  repeated  wonderingly 
and  letting  her  hand  rest  for  a  minute  on  mine. 

It  might  have  been  cowardice  upon  my  part,  but,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  I  thought  it  prudent  not  to  open 
the  satchel  at  this  minute.  So  I  pushed  it  back  under 
the  seat,  using  both  hands  to  do  so. 

Meanwhile  the  coachman,  from  his  own  volition, 
had  started  up  his  horses  again. 


89 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  BULLET  IN  THE  DARK 

IHAT  is  the  most  singular  thing!"  exclaimed 
Florentine.  "What  do  you  suppose  it 
means  ?" 

I  would  have  been  glad  to  tell  her. 

"Why  do  you  not  open  it  now  ?" 

"Wait  a  little  while,"  I  said. 

She  shivered,  and  I  drew  the  silver  fox  closer 
around  her  shoulders ;  but  she  shook  it  off. 

"Don't  mind  me,  but  you  are  cold."  She  touched 
my  coat.  "And  you  are  wet;  the  rain  beats  in  that 
window." 

Before  I  could  stop  her  she  had  picked  up  the 
feather  boa  which  she  had  brought  with  her,  and  which 
had  fallen  to  her  feet,  and  with  quick  turns  she  had 
twisted  it  around  my  neck.  Then,  with  .her  pretty 
white  hands,  one  soft  and  warm  and  bare  and  the  other 
clothed  in  snow  white  kid,  she  knotted  the  big  fluffy 
white  feather  thing  upon  my  chest,  tying  it  as  she 
would  have  tied  it  on  her  own  beautiful  bosom. 

I  sat  there  and  let  her  do  it,  though  not  accustomed 
to  feathers.  As  she  was  tying  it  I  remembered  how, 
once  upon  a  time — was  it  in  a  previous  existence  way 
back  in  Boston  ? — I  was  awakened  in  the  night  by  my 
old  Aunt  Jane,  who  shook  me  and  said  there  were  bur- 
glars in  the  cellar.  I  grabbed  my  revolver  and  rushed 

90 


A  BULLET  IN   THE  DARK 

downstairs  and  through  the  front  basement  to  head 
them  off.  Of  course  I  fell  into  the  coal  hole  outside 
under  the  front  stoop,  for  it  wasn't  burglars  but  only 
the  cook  trying  to  get  in.  But,  in  through  the  coal 
hole  I  went ;  and  I  remember  how  Aunt  Jane  threw 
down  her  shawl  and  told  me  to  wrap  it  around  my 
scantily  attired  shoulders  until  they  could  unlock  the 
coal  cellar  and  let  me  all  the  way  through ;  and  how  I 
had  indignantly  tossed  it  back,  preferring  to  freeze 
rather  than  die  wrapped  in  a  shawl. 

Yet  here  I  was,  sitting  in  a  closed  carriage  in  Tune 
with  that  ridiculous  white  feather  boa  knotted  on  my 
chest,  looking  as  proud  as  a  pouter  pigeon  and  as 
pleased  as  Punch. 

"I  am  worrying  about  you,"  said  the  girl,  as  she 
gave  another  little  touch  to  the  boa ;  "I  really  am  wor- 
rying, for  the  rain  is  coming  in  your  window." 

I  leaned  forward  to  close  the  window  a  little;  the 
drizzle  was  certainly  coming  sharply  my  way;  as  I 
did  so  the  ends  of  the  boa  fluttered  in  the  sharp 
draught  and  I  must  have  filled  the  window  full,  for 
I  am  not  a  slim  man. 

Whizz-zz ! 

Something  cut  the  air  sharply. 

Whizz-zz ! 

Florentine  grabbed  my  arm  with  both  her  hands 
but  I  noticed  even  then  that  she  did  not  scream.  The 
poor  girl  was  nerved  to  any  emergency. 

"Lean  back,"  I  commanded  sharply.  "Get  behind 
me  if  you  can !  There !" 

I  felt  her  slim  form  sinking  helplessly  back  in  the 
cushions.  Then  I  choked,  for  the  air  was  full  of 

91 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

feathers.  I  coughed  and  put  my  hand  to  my  chest. 
The  feather  boa  was  cut  in  two.  In  the  opposite  win- 
dow were  two  sharp  holes  to  show  where  the  bullets 
had  made  their  escape  after  they  had  plucked  my 
feathers. 

"Oh,"  moaned  Florentine,  "you  are  hurt." 

''Lie  perfectly  still  behind  me,"  I  ordered,  "and  do 
not  lift  your  head  as  much  as  a  single  inch." 

She  obeyed,  but  I  could  feel  her  heart  beating 
wildly.  I  leaned  well  forward  upon  the  cushions  to  be 
sure  that  she  could  find  room  to  shield  herself  behind 
me. 

She  must  have  perceived  my  attempt  to  protect  her 
for,  suddenly  rallying  from  her  momentary  panic,  she 
sat  up  and  with  the  full  force  of  her  two  small  hands 
she  pushed  me  back  where  she  had  been. 

"I  cannot  let  you  risk  your  life  for  me." 

At  that  moment  there  was  another  sharp  sound  in 
the  air. 

Whizz !  another  bullet  rushed  past  us  carrying  a 
blur  of  feathers. 

"Sit  back,"  ordered  Florentine  sharply,  as  sharply 
as  I  had  spoken  to  her  before;  "I  brought  you  here 
and  I  refuse  to  let  you  get  murdered  for  my  sake.  It 
is  my  fault,  I  might  have  known  they  would  not  let  you 

have  me "     She  took  one  side  of  her  heavy  cloak 

and  threw  it  across  me.  "Lean  back,  this  cloak  will 
shield  us  both." 

The  cloak  tore  at  the  lilies  and  they  fell  in  her  lap, 
crushed  and  broken. 

"I  would  give  my  life  if  I  had  not  brought  you 
here,"  she  sobbed. 

92 


A   BULLET  IN   THE  DARK 

Some  flowers,  some  natures,  some  people  give  forth 
their  best  when  bruised;  at  this  trying  moment  the 
unselfishness  in  her  came  swiftly  to  the  surface. 

"Shall  you  ever  forgive  me?" 

I  could  not  record  my  answer  now  if  I  tried.  But 
I  know  that  I  took  off  the  cloak  and  forced  it  around 
her  and  that  I  put  her  back  upon  the  seat  where  she 
should  have  been;  and  she  sat  so  still  and  so  white 
that  she  frightened  me. 

Never,  if  I  live  to  be  a  thousand,  and  I'm  willing 
to  live  that  long  in  spite  of  the  memory  of  that  night, 
shall  I  forget  the  remainder  of  that  drive.  It  seems 
that  something  went  wrong  with  the  harness  and  we 
were  held  for  a  while  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and, 
during  that  halt,  I  suffered  the  tortures  of  a  man 
who  sees  danger  menacing  the  thing  he  loves ;  it  is  an 
agony  compared  to  which  the  mediaeval  rack  was  a 
merry-go-round. 

She  could  not  help  noticing  my  uneasiness,  which 
was  all  the  more  acute  from  powerlessness  to  act  and, 
by  keeping  her  own  self-control,  she  did  what  she 
could  to  reassure  me. 

We  had  entered  now  upon  the  last  mile  of  the  drive 
and  were  in  the  dense  woods  that  surround  Wentstone 
Castle.  After  a  while  I  let  Florentine  rise  from  her 
cramped  position  though  I  kept  her  well  out  of  pos- 
sible range.  She  was  very  brave  and  was  evidently 
trying  hard  not  to  mention  the  pistol  shot. 

"Please — please  talk,"  she  begged  faintly. 

"Beautiful  woods !"  was  my  utterly  inane  remark.  I 
once  heard  of  a  woman  who  was  shipwrecked  and  all 
she  could  think  of  to  say  was  "Nice  big  rock."  She 

93 


said  afterwards  that  the  experience  had  driven  her 
back  into  the  mental  attitude  of  a  child  of  two  years. 

But  Florentine  was  getting  her  nerve  and  I  was  cor- 
raling  mine. 

"My  father  would  never  allow  these  trees  to  be  cut," 
went  on  Florentine,  steadying  her  voice  and  trying  to 
keep  me  from  noticing  the  tremble  in  it.  "And  Uncle 
Henry  has  preserved  them.  Uncle  Henry  is  Aunt 
Hope's  husband,"  she  added  explanatorily. 

She  was  sitting  up  now,  plucky  but  pale,  and  I  was 
reassuring  her  and  trying  to  lead  her  mind  in  another 
direction.  For  strategic  reasons  I  still  kept  the  boa 
around  my  neck ;  for,  though  not  possessed  of  a  pas- 
sion for  collecting  bullets  in  my  chest,  I  preferred  to  be 
the  monopolist  of  them  on  this  occasion.  If  any  stray 
balls  were  floating  around  I  wanted  to  catch  them 
first  so  they  would  become  acclimated  to  human  flesh 
before  Florentine  got  them. 

"That  awful  pistol !"  she  murmured,  getting  back 
to  it. 

"Don't  talk  about  it  until  we  are  out  of  the  woods." 

I  would  have  given  almost  anything  for  a  good 
chance  at  my  assailant  at  just  that  moment.  But  not 
being  able  to  conjure  up  one  I  thought  it  advisable  to 
do  the  next  best  thing,  sit  still  and  wait.  The  carriage 
hardly  crawled  along;  but  I  would  gain  nothing  by 
stepping  out  into  the  road  and  getting  shot. 

"Who  fired  the  bullet?"  she  asked,  still  trembling 
and  unable  to  get  away  from  the  subject. 

"I  don't  know,  but  I'm  going  to  find  out  the  minute 
I  get  you  safely  housed  in  Wentstone  Castle,"  I  said. 

"Oh  p-please  don't,"  she  begged. 

94 


A  BULLET  IN   THE  DARK 

A  deep  shiver  went  over  her. 

"And  please  do  look  in  that  satchel  now.  I  think 
we  ought  to  know  what  is  in  it." 

I  thought  so,  too.  So,  avoiding  the  window  as  well 
as  I  could,  I  dragged  the  black  bag  from  under  the 
seat.  It  sprang  open  almost  at  a  touch. 

"Whew  !"  I  exclaimed,  giving  a  Yankee  whistle. 

Florentine  did  not  speak  but  she  gazed  into  the  bag 
as  if  fascinated.  There,  even  in  the  dusk  of  the  car- 
riage lamps,  we  saw  plainly  before  us  as  complete  a 
set  of  murderous  tools  as  was  ever  spread  before  the 
eye  of  mortal  crook.  It  was  as  if  a  burglar  had  robbed 
himself  to  make  us  a  wedding  present.  There  was  his 
bottle  of  chloroform.  It  must  have  oozed  out  for  a 
faint  sweet  odor  issued  from  the  bag;  and  there  was 
a  revolver;  I  secured  this  at  once,  slipping  it  into  my 
hip  pocket  and  thanking  my  stars.  Then  there  were 
skeleton  things  of  which  I  vaguely  knew  the  meaning 
and  there  was  a  jimrrfy  and  a  wrench. 

"Some  workman  will  find  himself  without  his  tools 
to-night,"  I  observed,  as  I  examined  the  contents  of 
the  bag  again. 

"But  who  do  you  suppose  could  have  thrown  them 
into  this  carriage  ?" 

"I'm  afraid  it  wasn't  a  fairy  godmother." 

We  said  no  more  but  I  noticed  that  the  color  did  not 
come  back  to  Florentine's  face  until  we  saw  the  dis- 
tantly burning  lights  of  Wentstone  Castle  shining 
through  the  trees. 

"Not  a  word  of  this  to  anybody,"  I  cautioned  her. 
"We  don't  want  to  hurt  our  case.  And  we're  going 
to  carry  out  our  agreement  in  spite  of  flying  lead." 

95 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

She  nodded  assent;  as  for  me,  my  feathers  might 
be  shaken  but  not  my  determination;  it  is  an  heir- 
loom. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   TOILS  OF  SIR  CHARLES 

"TT  SUPPOSE,  before  we  get  there,"  said  Floren- 
tine, "that  I  must  tell  you  about  Aunt  Hope. 
We  shall  see  her  immediately  and  she  has  her 
traits.  And — you'll  have  to  know  about  the  Sepoy 
girl ;  she  is  our  family  skeleton." 

"Let  me  hear  the  bones  rattle,"  I  answered  encour- 
agingly. 

And  then  she  told  me.  It  was  an  odd  story  of  how 
Lady  Hope  had  had  political  ambitions  for  Uncle 
Henry  and  had  "stumped"  for  him.  But  with  the  Eng- 
lish tenantry  the  word  of  a  childless  woman  has  no 
weight.  So  Aunt  Hope  telegraphed  home  to  Uncle 
Henry  to  adopt  a  child  at  once.  Uncle  Henry,  busy 
with  his  painting,  sent  to  an  orphan  asylum  and  took 
the  first  baby  offered.  It  happened  to  be  a  native  of 
India,  a  little  orphaned  Sepoy  child.  And  Aunt  Hope 
was  laughed  off  the  stage  when,  without  having  pre- 
viously seen  it,  she  had  it  brought  on  as  hers." 

"What  became  of  the  Sepoy  baby?"  I  questioned 
after  I  had  had  my  laugh  at  Aunt  Hope's  expense. 

"Oh,  it  had  been  legally  adopted,  so  Aunt  Hope  had 
to  keep  it.  It  grew  up  and  is  a  woman  now.  It  hap- 
pened considerably  over  twenty  years  ago.  You  will 
see  her  to-night  and  that  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  I 
wanted  to  explain.  Aunt  Hope  sent  her  back  to  India 

97 


one  time  when  Cousin  Charles  was  going,  and  she 
had  grown  up,  but  she  would  not  stay.  You  will  see 
her  in  her  native  Indian  costume;  and  of  course  she 
is  more  or  less  one  of  the  family,  as  she  is  legally  Aunt 
Hope's  daughter." 

"How  old  is  Aunt  Hope?"  I  asked,  as  I  wanted  to 
be  posted  on  details. 

"She  is  sixty-one  but  she  looks  much  younger  for 
her  years  than  Aunt  Charity." 

"How  old  is  Aunt  Charity?" 

"She  is  sixty-one." 

I  didn't  quite  understand  and  I  admitted  it. 

"Aunt  Faith,  Aunt  Hope  and  Aunt  Charity  are  all 
three  sixty-one  years  old.  They  are  triplets." 

"Ah  yes,  I  remember." 

The  story  of  their  birth  as  told  me  a  week  ago  by 
the  aged  Duchess  of  Hume  sprang  to  my  mind  and  I 
wondered  if  Florentine  had  ever  heard  of  it.  She  was 
leaning  back  in  the  carriage  with  closed  eyes  while 
the  horses  trotted  splashily  along. 

"We  ought  to  be  nearly  there,"  I  observed,  for  lack 
of  anything  more  brilliant  to  say.  "I  wonder  if  they 
will  be  surprised  to  see  us." 

"Oh,  no,  because  I  sent  them  word  that  I  was  com- 
ing," she  said,  waking  and  brightening.  "Oh — what 
was  that?" 

There  was  a  note  of  quick  alarm  in  her  voice;  a 
shadow  had  crossed  the  pane. 

"Oh — oh!"  cried  Florentine,  putting  her  head  out 
of  the  window — "Do — look !" 

I  stuck  out  my  head  alongside  hers  in  time  to  see 
a  fleeing  figure. 

98 


THE   TOILS  OF  SIR  CHARLES 

"Who  is  it?"  I  demanded  stupidly. 

Florentine  cried,  still  leaning  from  the  window. 
"Oh,  he  is  so  exactly  like  you ;  the  very  image — face — 
ngure " 

I  had  seen  enough,  but  I  tried  to  soothe  her. 

"You  are  overwrought  and  nervous;  it  is  your 
fancy." 

"No,  no !  Your  face,  your  features,  all ;  and  he 
looked  right  into  the  carriage ;  his  eyes  were  not  a  yard 
from  mine." 

I  still  tried  to  quiet  her  but  she  was  intensely  agi- 
tated. 

"I  never  saw  two  people  so  alike ;  he  was  broad  and 
just  your  height  and  his  face  was  feature  for  fea- 
ture  " 

"Poor  devil !"  I  tried  to  laugh  it  off  as  though  it  were 
the  hobgoblin  of  a  child.  But  I  had  beheld  the  flying 
shadow  and  I  was  upset  myself. 

She  did  what  she  could  to  restore  her  own  calm 
but  it  was  some  minutes  before  she  stopped  trembling. 

"What  did  he  want?"  she  asked,  "and  why  did  he 
stare  so  hard  at  you?" 

"He  merely  wanted  to  compare  features,"  I  replied. 

"And  why  should  there  be — how  is  there — a  man 
looking  just  like  you  in  these  woods  to-night?" 

I  replied  flippantly,  as  men  do  to  mask  their  fears 
from  those  they  love;  but  I  knew — just  as  she  knew 
— that  there  had  disappeared  into  the  woods  a  man  so 
like  me  that  only  my  guardian  angel  could  have  told 
us  apart. 

"It  may  have  been  one  of  the  workmen  on  the  place 

and  the  likeness " 

99 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"No!"  she  struck  in;  "I  know  them  all  and  they 
know  me!" 

"Then  a  man  from  one  of  the  adjoining  places " 

"No— !" 

It  was  a  mystery  unsolved  and  strange  to  say  it 
weighed  upon  us  as  no  preceding  happening  had  done. 

"I  hope  they  will  welcome  us  in  spite  of  the  hour," 
I  remarked  as  though  there  had  been  no  shadow. 

"No  fear  of  that,"  she  said,  steadying  her  voice, 
"for  I  can  assure  you  that  my  dear  old  aunts  have 
been  nervous  enough  lest  I  forfeit  the  legacy.  But 
they  did  not — to  do  them  justice — want  me  to  marry 
Cousin  Charles  against  whom  they  have  many  griev- 
ances. For  one  thing  they  hate  him  soundly  for  hav- 
ing cheated  them  out  of  much  of  their  fortune." 

"It  is  a  trick  which  the  victim  seldom  applauds. 
There's  a  hansom  in  front  of  the  door,"  I  observed, 
peering  ahead. 

"Oh  that's  Mr.  Bradstreet,  the  lawyer,"  she  ex- 
plained, looking  out.  "He  is  here  to  arrange  matters. 
You  see  it  is  necessary  to  obtain  his  consent  to  our 
marriage ;  also  the  written  consent  of  the  aunts." 

We  were  approaching  the  broad  stone  steps  that 
led  to  the  wide  entrance  of  the  Castle  in  the  Woods, 
and  Florentine's  forehead  had  taken  an  anxious 
pucker. 

"I  think  you  better  stay  in  the  carriage,"  said  she, 
"until  I  can  go  in  and  explain " 

My  wits  came  to  the  rescue  and  I  suddenly  remem- 
bered, that  while  the  Ladies  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity 
were  expecting  Florentine  to  come  and  bring  a  bride- 
groom, they  did  not  know  who  the  bridegroom  might 

TOO 


THE   TOILS  OF  SIR  CHARLES 

be.     So,  at  the  very  best,  my  appearance  would  be  in 
the  nature  of  a  surprise  to  them. 

"Stay,"  said  Florentine,  who  was  proving  herself 
a  practical  little  girl,  "I  must  go  ahead  and  tell  them." 

"Why  not  let  me  speak  for  myself?" 

She  smiled  the  same  weary  little  smile.  "It  is  such 
a  distressing  situation  I  could  hardly  explain  it  now 
even  if  I  were  not  so  tired.  All  three  of  the  sisters 
— and  Aunt  Hope's  husband,  Uncle  Henry — are  ter- 
ribly in  debt  to  Cousin  Charles.  He  led  them  into  his 
investing  schemes,  and  then,  I  honestly  believe,  cheat- 
ed them  out  of  their  money.  My  fortune — if  I  get 
married  by  to-morrow  night — will  put  us  all  out  of 
his  reach." 

"Then  why  not " 

"You  stay  in  the  carriage  and  wait  until  I  come  for 
you,"  she  whispered  as  I  helped  her  out.  She  smiled 
but  I  noticed  that  her  eyes  wandered  back  along  the 
road  as  though  she  feared  something  or  somebody. 

"I  can't  let  you  go  again,"  I  cried. 

She  ran  back,  her  face  paling  a  little  and  the  youth- 
ful look  gone.  "I'll  come  back — this  time,"  she  whis- 
pered. "But — are  you  sure  you  are  not  afraid  of — 
the  dreadful  secret — the  one — which  Aunt  Faith  told 
me — for  the  first  time — to-night?" 

"I  shall  never  ask  to  hear  it,"  I  replied  recklessly. 
To  stay  back  in  the  cave  and  wait  while  the  lady  goes 
ahead  and  fights  your  dragon  for  you  isn't  strictly 
in  line  with  the  professed  valor  of  the  knight-errant. 
But  there  was  nothing  else  for  me  to  do;  so,  feeling 
like  a  chump,  I  climbed  back  in  the  carriage  and 
mopped  my  chin,  for  the  bullet  had  pinged  it  a  little 

101 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

and  my  forehead  smarted  as  though  grazed  by  lead. 

I  saw  Florentine's  silken  drapery  disappear  inside 
the  door.  Then  I  leaned  forward  and  felt  the  bullet 
holes  in  the  glass ;  I  also  secured  the  black  bag,  for  I 
wasn't  going  to  leave  it  behind  me  to  make  a  scandal 
in  the  Castle.  Even  if  I  were  not  acceptable  to  them 
I  did  not  want  them  to  think  they  had  entertained  a 
burglar. 

In  what  seemed  an  incredibly  long  time  a  servant 
came  down  and  opened  the  carriage  door.  I  took  it 
for  the  signal  and  got  out  and  walked  up  the  stone 
steps;  the  broad  door  swung  open  and  I  stepped  in- 
side, into  the  broad  candlelight  of  Wentstone  Castle! 
Florentine  met  me  as  the  maid-servant  was  taking  my 
top  coat. 

"J  didn't  come  out,"  she  said,  "but  I  sent  the  ser- 
vant for  you.  They  have  partially  consented  as  time 
is  now  so  valuable,  on  condition  that  I  get  a  divorce 
from  you  directly  after  the  marriage." 

I  interrupted  her  to  ask  a  question. 

"Upon  what  grounds  do  you  intend  to  get  a 
divorce  ?" 

"Undue  influence  brought  to  bear!" 

"Ah,"  I  murmured,  but  the  look  that  was  as  pleased 
as  Punch  was  no  longer  upon  my  face. 

"They  want  to  see  you  first,"  she  whispered,  "be- 
fore they  will  give  their  full  consent." 

I  squeezed  her  hand  by  way  of  reassurance.  "They 
shall  see  me." 

I  was  beginning  to  feel  the  spirit  of  the  fray;  the 
daring  which  comes  to  a  man  when  he  is  fighting  for 
his  family  and  his  fireside. 

102 


THE   TOILS  OF  SIR   CHARLES 

Florentine  stepped  into  the  great  room  on  the  right 
and  I  followed  her.  It  was  the  state  drawing-room  of 
the  castle  and  I  noted,  though  my  eye  was  not  search- 
ing specially  for  furnishings,  that  it  was  filled  with 
magnificent  specimens  of  mahogany  and  gilt  of  a  by- 
gone day.  So  full  was  it  of  furniture  that,  to  my  eyes, 
it  was  curiously  reminiscent  of  a  Fifth  Avenue  antique 
shop.  Drawing-rooms  to  me  reflect  the  character  of 
the  inmates  of  the  house  and  I  could  judge  the  ante- 
diluvian fussiness  of  the  ladies  of  Wentstone  by  the 
antiquated  surroundings. 

In  the  middle  of  this  great  room,  standing  in  a  soft 
lake  of  purple  silk,  stood  Aunt  Hope.  1  knew  her  at 
once  by  the  description  I  had  had  of  her.  She  was 
very  tall,  very  thin  and  upon  her  face  there  were  writ- 
ten the  lines  of  a  swiftly  spent  life.  Social  ambition 
marked  the  creases  in  her  much  powdered  countenance 
and  family  pride  stamped  each  puff  upon  her  much 
be-dressed  head.  She  was  evidently  the  social  arbiter 
of  her  family. 

"Aunt  Hope,  this  is  Mr.  Roman  Elliott,"  said  Flor- 
entine, leading  me  to  her  and  aiming  her  most  win- 
ning smile  at  the  old  lady.  Aunt  Hope  bowed  stiffly, 
but  her  bony  and  be-ringed  hands  did  not  move.  She 
was  taking  stock  of  me  before  committing  herself. 

"Where  is  Aunt  Charity?"  asked  Florentine. 

"Sister  Charity!"  called  Aunt  Hope,  "come  here. 
We  want  you!" 

Out  of  the  rear  end  of  the  deep  drawing-room  came 
Aunt  Charity.  She  was  built  in  complete  contrast  to 
the  others  of  the  triplets  for  she  was  short,  dark  and 
sallow.  She  was  of  the  type  which  we  might  call  little 

103 


THE    STAIRWAY    OX    THE    WALL 

and  dried  up.  But  I  forgave  Aunt  Charity,  for  she 
came  forward  holding  out  her  hand  to  me.  It  was 
her  left  hand,  for  in  her  right  she  carried  her  Bible, 
so  that  she  really  had  to  use  her  left  hand. 

"Charity,  lay  down  your  Bible  for  once,"  exclaimed 
Aunt  Hope  impatiently,  "and  listen  to  me !" 

"Now,  Hope,"  remonstrated  Aunt  Charity,  "you 
know  how  impossible  it  is  for  me  to  remain  long.  I 
must  read  ten  chapters  before  I  go  to  bed,  if  I'm  going 
to  get  through  the  Bible  before  Mr.  Sanction's  anni- 
versary." 

Florentine  turned  half  round  so  that  she  could 
speak  into  my  ear.  "The  thirtieth  anniversary  of  Mr. 
Sanction's  death  occurs  next  Thursday  and  Aunt 
Charity  is  going  to  make  him  a  present  of  another 
reading  through  of  her  Bible.  She  is  reading  now  for 
the  word  Deceit." 

"What  will  she  do  with  it?"  I  asked. 

"She  will  write  him  a  letter  telling  him  how  many 
times  she  has  found  the  word  in  the  Bible." 

"And  where  will  she  put  the  letter?"  I  asked,  mere- 
ly to  become  posted  upon  the  subject  of  posthumous 
correspondence 

"Oh,  she  will  take  it  out  to  his  grave  and  bury  it. 
She  has  done  it  regularly  for  thirty  years." 

Aunt  Charity's  tart  voice  was  still  upon  the  air. 

"I  shall  be  present  at  this  marriage  in  case  I 
approve.  Buf  I  doubt  very  much  if  I  will  give  my 
consent." 

"The  Rev.  Mr.  Sanction  was  gifted  with  language," 
hinted  Florentine. 

I  straightened  my  shoulders  and  prepared  to  use 
104 


THE   TOILS  OF  SIR  CHARLES 

language.  From  the  dining-room  Aunt  Hope  brought 
in  the  family  lawyer,  Mr.  Bradstreet,  as  old  as  the 
best  antique  in  the  room,  and  we  made  our  prepara- 
tions. 

"We  can't  go  on  until  Faith  comes,"  declared  Aunt 
Hope,  going  to  the  window  and  looking  out.  "She 
is  at  her  town  house,"  she  explained  to  me,  "and  she 
half  expected  a  guest  for  dinner  this  evening.  How- 
ever, she'll  be  here  in  a  little  while." 

I  could  have  told  her  that  I  had  interviewed  Aunt 
Faith  in  town  and  that  the  dinner  guest  hadn't  come; 
also  that  Aunt  Faith  would  follow  very  shortly  indeed. 
Even  at  that  moment  there  was  a  rumbling  of  carriage 
wheels  outside  and  a  few  minutes  later  Aunt  Faith 
bustled  in.  I  had  a  chance  now  to  see  them  all  to- 
gether, the  three  Graces,  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity, 
while,  in  the  background  stood  old  Mr.  Bradstreet 
ready  to  aid  and  abet. 

Introductions  flew  around  pretty  generally,  and  I 
was  preparing  to  make  my  speech,  when  Aunt  Hope 
suddenly  cried: 

"Wait !  We  must  have  your  Uncle  Henry.  Henry 
is  an  artist,"  she  explained  proudly. 

This  remark  must  have  been  for  my  benefit  as  the 
rest  knew — or  didn't  know — it;  so  a  servant  was  dis- 
patched to  look  up  the  artistic  Uncle  Henry.  I 
walked  around  the  room  cogitating  as  to  my  best 
course  of  procedure  and  chanced  to  be  by  the  hall  door 
just  in  time  to  meet  the  servant  coming  in.  It  was 
the  girl  who  had  taken  my  coat  and  I  had  tipped  her, 
which  might  account  for  her  willingness  to  exchange 
conversation  with  me. 

105 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"Sir  Henry  can't  come,  sir,"  she  said,  "he's  busy 
making  a  bath  tub,  and  then  he's  got  to  eat  his  din- 
ner." 

"Making  a  bath  tub!"  I  exclaimed.  "Is  Sir  Henry 
a  plumber?" 

"Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  "he's  a  painter  and  he 
wants  to  put  the  bath  tub  in  the  picture  before  he  goes 
to  bed.  Then  he's  got  to  have  his  dinner." 

"Didn't  he  dine  with  the  rest  of  the  family?"  I 
asked. 

"No,  sir.  He  never  eats  with  the  rest  of  the  fam- 
ily. You  see,  sir,  he's  a  vegetable.  He  lives  on  butter- 
nuts and  water  cress." 

"Indeed!" 

I  went  back  into  the  drawing-room  with  the  idea 
that  I  had  a  job  before  me  if  I  was  to  reconcile  such 
a  variety  of  personalities  to  the  idea  of  taking  any  one 
person  into  hearth  and  home.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  was  the  money;  and  I  could  faintly  scent  that 
money  was  a  little  shy  in  that  family. 

Uncle  Henry  came  down  a  few  minutes  later.  I 
saw  at  once  that  he  was  the  junior  of  Aunt  Hope  and 
that  he  aspired  to  live  up  to  his  reputation  of  being  a 
painter.  His  velvet  coat,  cloth  slippers,  butcher's 
apron,  and  the  palette  sticking  on  his  left  thumb,  told 
me  as  much. 

He  pulled  me  on  one  side,  as  soon  as  I  had  been  in- 
troduced. "When  this  dreary  function  is  over,"  he 
said,  "I  would  be  glad  to  have  you  come  up  to  my 
studio.  I'm  painting  a  picture " 

Here  he  gave  me  a  look  of  great  expectancy  and  I 
tried  to  look  enthralled  with  anticipation. 

106 


THE   TOILS  OF  SIR  CHARLES 

"You're  interested.  Ah,  I  knew  you  would  be;  it 
is  a  picture  that  is  to  hang  in  the  ladies'  gymnasium 
and  swimming  baths  which  Florentine  is  going  to  do- 
nate to  the  parish." 

I  could  see  where  some  of  Florentine's  fortune  was 
to  go. 

"The  swimming  pool  isn't  ready  yet,  but  it  will  be 
by  the  time  my  picture  is  done." 

Eagerly  I  asked  the  title  of  the  picture — the  subject. 

Uncle  Henry's  face  glowed  with  pleasure.  I  had 
made  a  hit,  and  had  secured  an  ally. 

"It's  partly  allegorical ;  partly  illustrative,"  he  said, 
"and  it  is  taken  from  somewhere  in  the  Old  Testament, 
Kings,  I  think." 

A  picture  taken  from  Kings  promised  to  be  inter- 
esting and  I  pressed  him  to  know  more. 

"It's  for  the  swimming  pool  you  know,"  confided 
he;  "so  I've  painted  a  bath  tub.  In  the  distance  is 
King  David  walking  on  the  house-top  and  in  the  fore- 
ground is  the  wife  of  Uriah  the  Hittite,  taking  a  bath. 
You  know  David  fell  in  love  with  her — then,  wasn't 
it— eh  ?" 

I  confessed  that  I  didn't  remember. 

"Well,  you  think  it's  an  artistic  subject  for  the  wall 
of  a  parish  house  swimming  pool,  anyway,  don't  you  ?" 
he  questioned  anxiously. 

Maybe  I  did  and  maybe  I  didn't,  but  I  wasn't  go- 
ing to  say,  so  I  nodded  and  shook  his  hand.  Aunt 
Hope  was  calling  us  and  we  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

"They  are  a  little  opposed,"  whispered  Florentine 
nervously,  "and  I  have  told  them  that  you  will  ex- 

107 


plain  matters.  Don't  say  too  much,  but  I  think  you'll 
have  to  pretend  that  you're  in  love  with  me  for  they're 
all  great  believers  in  real  love.  Can  you  do  it,  do  you 
suppose;  for,  though  they  are  determined  that  I  shall 
be  married,  they  want  me  to  marry  an  Englishman 
or  someone  in — in  their  set !  Even  Sir  Charles  would 
be  better  than  an  American." 

I  glanced  at  her  crimson  cheeks  and  made  a  hasty 
decision. 

"See  here,"  I  said,  taking  her  arm  and  leading  her 
off  behind  the  window  curtains,  a  movement  easily 
understood  in  a  man  about  to  marry  his  lady  love,  "be- 
fore we  go  on  with  this  ridiculous  farce  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  for  myself.  I  may  not  be  a  Hadley  of 
England,  but  I'm  an  Elliott  of  Boston ;  and  I'm  a  man 
in  love.  And  when  my  time  comes  to  speak  to  these 
old  ladies,  these  aunts  of  yours,  I'm  going  to  do  my 
best  to  win  them  over.  But,  if  I  don't  succeed,  it  isn't 
going  to  make  one  bit  of  difference — to  either  you  or 
me.  You're  not  going  to  marry  Sir  Charles,  and  he 
can't  get  you  if  he  comes  here  in  the  morning  with  a 
sheriff's  posse." 

Florentine  looked  frightened. 

"I'll  keep  my  part.  I'll  take  possession  of  your 
promise  to  love,  honor  and  obey,  and  no  more;  I'll 
hand  back  the  promise  intact;  but  old  ladies  or  no  old 
ladies,  I  am  going  to  marry  you  to-night  according  to 
our  arrangement.  I  am  not  a  puppet  here  to  be  sent 
away  if  they  don't  fike  my  looks.  I  am  here  as  a  man 
who  wants  to  marry  the  woman  he  loves — yes,  the 
woman  he  loves! — and  I'm  going  to  do  it,  too;  if  she 

108 


THE   TOILS  OF  SIR  CHARLES 

doesn't  love  me  enough  to  cherish  and  keep,  or  what- 
ever it  is,  why,  that's  an  afterthought !" 

Considering  that  I  am  well  known  for  my  eloquence 
in  the  Court  House  at  home,  my  speech  sounded  very 
flat  and  tame,  but  a  man  can't  be  expected  to  do  much 
with  his  tongue  when  his  heart  is  in  his  mouth. 

'Tm  afraid  you  don't  understand  that  I  can't 
marry  you  unless  they  are  willing.  The  money  does 
not  come  to  me  without  their  agreement  in  writ- 
ing- 

"Let  the  money  go,"  I  broke  in.  "We  do  not  have 
to  get  the  consent  of  anyone.  We  can  get  married 
to-night  and  ask  their  permission  afterwards.  They 
will  be  glad  enough  to  give  it  when  they  see  their  for- 
tune disappearing — for  you  can  give  it  all  to  them, 
if  you  want  to,  afterwards.  Or,  if  they  don't  give 
their  consent  we  can  let  the  fortune  go — back  to  Mon- 
tana !" 

I  looked  her  right  in  the  face  and  she  knew;  she 
knew  I  loved  her;  I  had  nailed  my  flag  to  the  mast; 
my  colors  were  in  the  breeze. 

"I — I  believe  I  am  more  than  half  in  love  with  you," 
she  said.  "If — if  I  were  free — perfectly  free — I  half 
believe  I'd  marry  you  anyway." 

"Make  it  three-quarters  or  I'll  refuse  to  make  any 
speech  at  all  this  evening." 

"Well — three-quarters,  if  you  wish  it,  Mr. — Ro- 
man Elliott  of  Boston.  And  I'm  not  sorry  you  are 
poor;  and  I  don't  care  if  you  do  work  for  a  living." 

Extraordinary  admission  for  a  girl  brought  up  as 
she  had  been.  I  looked  at  her  squarely  and  she  gave 
me  gaze  for  gaze. 

109 


"But  we've  got  to  play  our  parts;  you  must  get  the 
consent  of  Aunt  Faith,  Aunt  Hope  and  Aunt  Charity, 
for,  remember — reckless  fellow — that  there's  a  for- 
tune thrown  away  if  I'm  not  married  by  this  time  to- 
morrow. And  we,  our  family,  must  have  money.  I'm 
— I'm  awfully  poor." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  fortune,  and  perhaps  it  was  not, 
that  made  me  turn  so  readily  toward  the  little  group 
that  stood  consulting  alongside  the  piano.  In  the 
doorway  the  servants  had  gathered  and  Aunt  Hope 
went  to  close  them  out.  But,  as  she  shut  the  door 
in  the  face  of  the  others,  I  noticed  that  she  pulled  one 
inside.  This  woman  who  impressed  me  at  sight  as  a 
sort  of  upper  servant,  a  combination  of  servant  and 
companion,  was  so  curiously  attired  that  I  could  not 
help  staring  at  her. 

"Oh,  that's  the  Sepoy  girl  Aunt  Hope  adopted," 
whispered  Florentine.  "She  clings,  you  see,  to  her 
native  costume.  Aunt  Hope  tried  to  keep  her  in  In- 
dia, but  she  comes  back — when  Cousin  Charles  is 
here." 

In  answer  to  my  unspoken  question  she  added: 

"She  is  quite  devoted  to  him.  Aunt  Hope  sent  her 
out  to  India  in  his  care  when  she  was  quite  a  girl  and 
ever  since  then — you  know — I  told  you — how  she  fol- 
lows him." 


no 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   REV.    MR.    PAN  COAST   IS    MISSING 

MR.  BRADSTREET  was  clearing  his  throat 
and  there  was  no  time  for  more;  the  old 
family  lawyer  was  speaking: 

"I  understand  from  these  ladies,  my  clients,"  said 
he,  standing  squarely  with  hands  behind  him,  and 
talking  as  though  he  were  addressing  a  courtroom, 
"that  you  have  pretensions  for  the  hand  of  the  Hon- 
orable Florentine  Hadley.  According  to  the  will  of 
her  second  cousin  the  consent  of  her  aunts  must  be 
obtained.  The  hour  is  late  and  it  is  imperative  that 
the  matter  be  attended  to  now,  as,  according  to  the 
terms  of  the  will,  the  marriage  must  take  place  before 
the  Honorable  Florentine  has  attained  her  twenty-first 
birthday,  which  will  be  to-morrow  night.  Owing  to 
certain  engagements  and  possible  interruptions," — 
everybody  thought  of  Sir  Charles — "we  think  it  ex- 
pedient that  it  be  gone  through  with  at  once.  Now, 
Mr.  Elliott,  you  are  a  stranger  to  us,  though  well  in- 
troduced in  London  I  hear,  but  just  the  same,  we 
would  like  to  have  you  present  your  case ;  we  want  to 
know  something  about  you !" 

I  stepped  out  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  Flor- 
entine, plucky  girl,  came  over  and  stood  by  my  side. 
The  little  audience  took  us  in  from  head  to  foot.  I 
don't  know  how  I  looked,  but  as  for  Florentine,  never 

in 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    IV ALL 

have  I  seen  a  lovelier — a  more  distracting  sight.  I 
did  not  dare  to  let  my  eyes  rest  upon  her;  from  the 
chandelier  of  candles  above  us  the  soft  lights  fell 
down  upon  her  hair,  turning  each  silver  thread  into 
gleaming  gold.  That  searching  upper  lighting  which 
annihilates  most  women  only  served  as  a  torch  to 
show  up  Florentine's  wonderful  beauty.  It  seemed 
impossible  that  she  should  be  there  by  the  side  of  me. 
She  ought  to  have  been  in  Heaven  on  a  pink  cloud, 
yet  there  she  stood  with  downcast  eyes,  wondering 
what  I  could  say.  I  looked  at  her  and  knew  what  I 
would  say ! 

Aunt  Faith,  Aunt  Hope  and  Aunt  Charity  stood  in 
a  row,  side  by  side;  and  back  of  them  stood  Mr.  Brad- 
street.  All  eyes  were,  of  course,  upon  me  and  the 
dull  black  cover  of  Aunt  Charity's  Oxford  Bible 
danced  before  me.  In  the  doorway,  patiently  waiting 
to  be  allowed  to  go  back  to  his  bath  tub,  stood  Uncle 
Henry. 

Florentine  gave  a  tiny  cough  which  I  took  for  a 
signal  that  I  was  to  begin  and  I  opened  my  mouth 
and  I  spoke.  I  don't  know  now  just  exactly  what  I 
said,  but  Florentine  declared  afterwards  that  it  was 
the  finest  burst  of  eloquence  she  ever  heard ;  certainly 
it  reduced  all  three  sisters  to  tears.  Aunt  Hope 
mopped  her  eyes  at  the  first  onslaught,  but  it  was  not 
until  I  touched  upon  the  unexpected  advent  of  Prince 
Charming  into  the  life  of  Florentine — cunningly  in- 
timating that  I  was  Prince  Charming — that  Aunt 
Faith  succumbed.  Then  came  Aunt  Charity's  turn, 
but  she  had  an  obdurate  look  in  her  snappy  little 
black  eyes ;  I  reached  out  my  hand  for  her  Bible,  and, 

112 


THE    REV.    MR.    PANCOAST   IS    MISSING 

for  a  minute,  I  thought  she  was  going  to  give  it  to 
me.  But  she  held  on  and  I  let  my  hand  drop.  But  I 
spoke  Scripture,  spouting  it  as  though  I  had  read  it 
through  twice  a  year  for  the  past  four  decades,  and 
I  know  now  that  Aunt  Charity  could  not  have  done 
better  herself. 

I  hinged  the  whole  thing  on  my  love  for  Florentine 
And,  when  I  got  to  the  critical  stage  of  the  proceed- 
ing, I  stopped  short,  leaving  silence  to  work  out  the 
rest.  Then  I  bent  down  my  head  and  whispered  to 
Florentine,  "Was  it  all  right  ?" 

"Ye-es,  but — I  think  you  really  ought  to  kiss — me. 
Would  you  mind?" 

Aunt  Faith  was  crying  and  Aunt  Charity  had 
winked  off  two  big  tears. 

"Would  I  mind?" 

I  grabbed  hold  of  her  with  both  arms  and  gave  her 
a  good  hug.  Then  I  lifted  her  face  to  mine  and — 
well,  maybe  I  overdid  the  matter  a  little,  for  she  wrig- 
gled herself  free: 

"You  brute — you  horrid  thing!"  she  exclaimed,  as 
loud  as  she  dared,  "You  wretch — I'll  never,  never 
speak  to  you  again!" 

"What  did  I  do?"  I  whispered  back.  "You  asked 
me  to!" 

"Do!  You — you  haven't  been  shaved  for  a — a 
week !" 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

"Haven't  been  shaved — for  a  week !"  I  gasped. 

This  was  a  pretty  state  of  affairs,  a  manifest  injus- 
tice and  a  case  of  rank  ingratitude.  Hadn't  been 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

shaved  for  a  week!     My  Japanese  valet  would  have 
left  me  without  notice  if  he  had  heard. 

The  three  Graces  and  Mr.  Bradstreet  had  gone  in- 
to executive  session  and  we  were  unobserved. 

I  looked  at  Florentine.  The  tip  of  one  ear,  pink 
and  impenitent,  showed  above  the  tiny  lace  absurdity 
with  which  she  was  soothing  her  cheek ;  something 
must  be  done.  Florentine  was  going  to  be  my  wife ; 
that  was  certain.  But  I  wanted  an  agreeable  wife, 
not  a  vixen ;  a  reasonable  one,  not  a  shrew. 

And  here  she  was  on  the  very  day  of  our  marriage, 
our  wedding  day,  calling  me  names  and  libeling  me 
to  my  face,  just  because  I  had  kissed  her  perhaps  a 
little  too  enthusiastically.  It  must  be  stopped  at  once 
— not  the  kissing,  but  the  libel.  Suppose  I  were  to  let 
this — this  insult — pass,  w?hat  would  happen?  to  what 
would  it  lead?  I  glanced  at  her  again.  She  was 
touching  her  nose  with  the  bit  of  lace ;  I  never  noticed 
before  how  saucy  a  tilt  a  perfect  little  Grecian  nose 
can  take.  She  glanced  sideways  and  actually  sniffed 
at  me. 

"I  said  you  might  take  one;  you  took  seventeen!" 

"Seventeen !    I'll  swear  it  was  only " 

I  stopped  right  there ;  suppose  I  did  take  seventeen ; 
what  of  it,  and  why  not?  A  pretty  circumstance  if  I 
could  not  kiss  my  own  wife  seventeen  kisses. 

My  mind  traveled  ahead  into  that  future  far  be- 
yond the  old  drawing-room  and  its  assembled  an- 
tiques; far  away  into  a  world  of  at  least  Florentine 
and  me.  And  I  could  not  kiss  her !  No,  it  would  not 
do ;  she  must  be  disciplined  and  now ;  it  was  the  time 
to  teach  her  to  respect  a  husband. 

114 


THE   REV.    MR.    PANCOAST   IS    MISSING 

I  looked  at  the  lovely  pink  and  silver  image  by  my 
side;  she  had  said,  "You  haven't  been  shaved  for  a 
week!"  And  a  wife  should  be  taught  the  unpopular- 
ity of  such  an  accusation.  Her  profile  was  turned 
from  me,  but  oh,  how  pretty  she  was !  One  must  not 
be  too  severe  after  all ;  so  I  bent  and  whispered : 

"I  would  not  say  such  a  thing  to  you." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

"Forgive  me,"  I  begged,  "forgive  me — I  didn't 
mean  it — of  course  I  would " 

Her  shoulders  shook;  she  was  laughing.  She  was 
laughing.  Such  a  wife  would  be  impervious  to  dis- 
cipline. 

I  looked  across  the  room.  Aunt  Faith  was  still 
wiping  her  eyes  and  thinking  of  Prince  Charming ; 
Aunt  Hope  had  her  hand  on  Uncle  Henry's  shoulder 
and  was  as  near  him  as  the  paint  palette  on  his  thumb 
would  permit. 

But  Aunt  Charity's  beady  eyes  were  upon  me. 

"I  wish  to  speak,"  she  declared. 

"Charity!"  interposed  Aunt  Hope. 

"It  is  best  to  utter  my  sentiments — our  sentiments — 
now,"  she  continued.  "There  are  things  which  should 
be  told." 

Florentine  gave  a  little  gasp  and  turned  white. 

"I  do  not  want  to  hear  them;  that  is,  they  are  al- 
ready known  to  me,"  I  volunteered. 

"I  do  not 'believe  it,"  said  Aunt  Charity  calmly, 
"and  there  is  no  lie  as  wicked  as  a  deliberate  lie." 

"Charity,"  remonstrated  Aunt  Faith. 

But  Aunt  Charity  was  not  to  be  stopped. 

"We  have  this  day,  only,"  she  resumed,  "come  into 


THE  STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

certain  information  regarding  our  niece,  the  Honor- 
able Florentine  Hadley.  Up  to  this  time  we  had  sup- 
posed her  to  be  a  suitable  match  for  any  title  in  Eng- 
land." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Charity,"  pleaded  Florentine. 

"She  is  far  too  good  for  most  of  your  titles,"  I 
ejaculated,  "and  I  will  not  hear  more." 

"But  to-day,  for  the  first  time,"  went  on  the  im- 
placable Charity,  "we  are  placed  in  possession  of  in- 
formation which,  if  true — and  Sister  Faith  says  that 
Cousin  Charles  proved  it  to  her — makes  our  niece 
unfit,  unworthy;  in  other  words,  Mr.  Elliott,  only  a 
nobody  like  yourself  would  marry  her." 

"You  are  a  demon,  and  I  wouldn't  believe  you  or 
Sir  Charles  under  oath,"  were  some  of  the  foolish 
words  I  uttered,  but  they  were  fortunately  drowned 
out  by  Florentine's  voice. 

"Don't — I  beg — Aunt  Charity,"  sobbed  she.  She 
had  hidden  her  face  in  her  hands  and  was  weeping 
with  a  violence  and  an  abandon  that  unnerved  my 
very  soul. 

"You  might  as  well  face  it,"  said  the  relentless 
Charity.  "She  is — degraded." 

"Stop,"  I  cried. 

"Yet  her  cousin,  Sir  Charles,  forgetting  his  proud 
position  as  head  of  our  family,  is  willing  to  stoop  to 
marry  her." 

It  was  well  she  spoke  his  name,  for  at  mention  of 
Sir  Charles,  Florentine  flung  her  head  proudly  up. 

"I  refuse  to  accept  his  sacrifice!"  she  declared. 

"And  I  don't  care  for  Sir  Charles,  nor  for  all  his 
documentary  evidence,"  I  exclaimed. 

116 


THE   REV.    MR.    PANCOAST   IS   MISSING 

My  tone  was  a  little  more  threatening  than  I  in- 
tended, and  Charity  subsided;  but  I  was  quite  willing 
to  forgive  myself  any  rudeness  if  it  had  the  effect  of 
shutting  her  up. 

Florentine  was  the  first  to  find  her  voice. 

"I  will  not  marry  Mr.  Elliott  or  anyone  else,"  she 
ejaculated. 

A  dead  silence  fell,  broken  by  Aunt  Faith. 

"The  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast  is  on  his  way  here — to  per- 
form the  ceremony." 

"He  can  return,"  said  Florentine  hotly.  Then,  as 
her  eyes  fell  on  my  own  face  flushed  and  indignant, 
she  became  more  calm.  "Isn't  he  a  long  time?"  she 
asked. 

"Do  not  libel  Jephtha's  Daughter,"  I  reminded  her, 
and  then  I  remembered  that  he  ought  to  be  here,  even 
if  Jephtha's  Daughter  had  stopped  and  lain  down  for 
a  beauty  sleep. 

Cousin  Irene — it  seemed  a  thousand  ages  ago — had 
told  me  about  the  beauty  sleep  as  known  in  Boston. 
She  said  it  was  unnecessary  if  a  woman  wears  square 
toed  shoes  and  counts  her  proteids,  but  Cousin  Irene 
isn't  an  old  horse. 

Aunt  Charity  still  had  the  floor. 

"Perhaps  I  better  go  and  search  for  him,"  I  said, 
ignoring  her.  It  is  pretty  dark  down  that  winding 
road  and " 

Suppose  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast  should  have  encoun- 
tered the  difficulties  which  had  beset  us — in  our  jour- 
ney through  the  woods  of  Wentstone ! 

Florentine  and  I  looked  at  each  other;  we  were 
both  so  wrought  up  that  the  littles  worried  us. 

117 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"There  is  a  piece  of  skin  off  your  forehead,"  said 
she,  "and  there's  blood  on  your  handkerchief." 

"Oh,  that's  where  one  of  those  bullets  pinked  me," 
I  replied  easily,  "but  it  wasn't  more  than  a  graze;  it 
matches  the  one  on  my  chin." 

"I  wonder  what  has  become  of  Mr.  Pancoast?"  she 
repeated. 

"I'm  going  to  look  for  him." 

Florentine  nodded,  but  the  anxious  look  came  back 
into  her  face. 

"You  are  willing  to  let  him  marry  us?"  I  asked. 

After  some  talk  I  drew  out  of  her  that  she  was 
willing  but  feared  that  Sir  Charles  would  murder 
me;  it  was  plain  that  the  poor  girl — though  she  knew 
her  own  mind — was  rent  by  conflicting  emotions. 


118 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   MYSTERY  AT  MIDNIGHT 

1  TURNED  to  the  Graces  and  explained  matters 
and  they  were  for  sending  the  old  manservant 
down  the  road  to  look  for  the  clergyman. 

But  to  this  I  objected. 

"The  carriage  is  waiting,"  I  said,  "and  I  will  drive 
down  and  find  him.  He  is  probably  not  far  away." 

I  slipped  into  my  coat  and  had  my  hand  on  the 
door  knob  when  Florentine  touched  me  on  the  arm. 

"I  can't  bear  to  have  you  go,  but  if  you  do  go,  I 
want  to  go  with  you."  She  picked  up  her  cloak,  "I 
really  do,  and  I  am  going." 

Seeing  my  face,  she  put  both  hands  timidly  on  my 
arm: 

"Don't  refuse  me.  I  can't  let  you  go  alone — I  shall 
worry  so,  because  I  am  responsible  for  having  brought 
you  here." 

It  was  against  my  judgment,  but  with  her  still 
clinging  to  my  arm,  I  opened  the  door.  A  swift  wind 
blew  out  the  candles  in  the  chandelier  and  I  put  my 
arm  around  Florentine  to  steady  her.  The  rain  had 
stopped  and  the  stars  were  winking  forth  but  it  was 
chilly. 

I  looked  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  for  the  carriage  but 
it  was  not  there ;  I  whistled,  but  it  did  not  appear. 

"He  must  have  gone/'  I  chattered,  for  the  wind 
H9 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

went  through  us.  "Never  mind,  the  road  is  a  short 
one  and  I  can  run  down  and  back  in  half  an  hour. 
But  you  must  stay  here.  And  I  will  take  that  black  bag 
of  burglar's  tools — it  seems  awkward  to  leave  it  here 
with  you." 

"But  what  will  you  do  with  it  ?" 

"Leave  it  in  the  woods — to  be  called  for  by  the 
rightful — or  the  wrongful — owners." 

Florentine  agreed  and  I  opened  the  big  door  and  put 
her  back  in  the  house.  As  it  was  closing,  she  stuck 
her  head  out — and  this  time  she  didn't  have  to  ask 
me! 

I  started  whistling  down  the  winding  road.  A  few 
yards  from  the  house  it  took  an  abrupt  turn  so  that 
the  house  disappeared  except  for  the  windows  which 
looked  like  squares  of  yellow  light  shining  through 
the  trees.  It  was  not  until  I  had  made  the  turn  that 
I  noticed  the  weight  of  the  black  bag  in  my  hand.  The 
road  led  slightly  downward  and  I  quickened  my  pace 
to  a  run  for  I  thought  of  Florentine  and  her  natural 
misgivings  after  our  experiences  in  these  same  woods 
that  night. 

Even  as  I  hurried  along  I  was  conscious  of  the  feel- 
ing that  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  knew  what  it 
was  to  live  in  two  worlds — a  woman's  world  and  a 
man's.  I  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  Castle ;  the 
squares  of  yellow  were  faintly  visible  and  against  one 
of  them  I  thought  I  saw  Florentine's  face  silhouetted, 
and  she  was  worrying  about  me.  This  would  not  do ; 
I  must  shake  it  off;  the  thought  of  Florentine  took 
away  my  courage  and  made  me  long  to  turn  and  rush 
back  to  her. 

1 20 


A  MYSTERY  AT  MIDNIGHT 

I  stumbled  ahead  over  the  road  which  was  poor. 
The  weakened  finances  of  the  family  had  allowed  it 
to  get  into  sad  disrepair.  I  stepped  into  a  hole,  re- 
gained my  footing  and  stumbled  again!  Again  I 
tripped  on  something — was  it  a  rope?  and,  while  I 
was  trying  to  catch  myself,  I  tripped  again  and  this 
time  I  fell  flat  on  my  face — stretched  full  across  some- 
thing that  filled  the  road. 

I  felt  myself  grasping  a  warm  body.  I  stretched 
out  my  hands  and  they  touched  something  all  rough 
and  hairy  like  a  skin  rug.  I  rolled  awkwardly  off 
and  struggled  to  my  feet,  slipping  in  a  soft  and  sticky 
pool.  By  chance  I  found  a  match  in  the  pocket  of  my 
dress  coat  and  I  struck  it  and  looked  around.  The 
flame  wavered  in  the  wind  but  I  coaxed  it. 

At  my  feet  lay  that  over  which  I  had  fallen,  a  great 
bay  horse,  and  I  was  wading  in  a  puddle  of  dark  red 
blood.  I  tried  to  take  a  step  but  the  reins  in  which  I 
had  stumbled  were  tangled  around  my  ankles. 

I  struck  the  horse  with  my  fist  in  the  hope  that  a 
movement  would  help  me  to  extricate  myself  from 
the  tangle  of  reins  in  which  I  had  become  unwittingly 
twisted;  there  was  no  motion;  I  lifted  its  head,  tug- 
ging at  the  mane,  but  it  fell  back  heavily.  The  horse 
was  old  and  the  story  of  Jephtha's  Daughter  flashed 
through  my  mind,  as  I  shaded  my  eyes  to  look  at 
the  animal  while  I  worked  myself  loose  from  the 
lines. 

There  was  a  dark  object  beyond,  and  groping  my 
way  to  it,  I  found  it  to  be  an  overturned  buggy  which 
had  been  pitched  violently  on  its  side  so  that  it 
blocked  the  road.  "Jeptoha's  Daughter  did  not  die 

121 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

without  a  struggle,"  I  said,  as  I  saw  the  shattered 
top. 

I  had  no  more  matches,  but  I  peered  into  the  buggy 
as  best  I  could.  There,  half  lying  on  the  ground  and 
half  pinned  under  the  wheels  lay  a  person. 

It  was  an  old  man,  his  face  turned  sharply  upward. 

Was  he  alive?  I  pulled  at  his  arms,  but  I  could 
not  free  him,  his  legs  were  caught  fast  underneath,  as 
though  he  had  been  getting  out  of  the  buggy  when  it 
overturned.  I  exerted  all  my  strength  to  raise  it  but 
it  was  a  hopeless  task. 

In  the  road  ahead  lay  a  great  white  stone  and  I 
ran  to  fetch  it,  half  rolling  and  half  carrying  it  to  the 
buggy.  With  tremendous  effort  I  tried  now  to  lift 
the  wagon  upon  it,  but  the  wheels  rolled  backward, 
sending  the  old  man's  shoulders  heavily  to  the  ground. 
I  looked  around  for  a  pole  to  use  as  a  lever  but  none 
was  in  sight.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  I  thought  of 
the  black  bag.  In  it  were  the  heavy  burglar's  tools — 
at  which  Florentine  had  had  one  horrified  glance — 
and  among  these  were  surely  some  that  would  be  of 
use  to  me  now!  I  felt  devoutly  grateful  that  I  had 
brought  it. 

I  looked  around  for  the  bag.  It  had  fallen  out  of 
my  hand  when  I  stumbled  over  the  horse  and  its  con- 
tents lay  scattered  in  the  road.  I  searched  around. 
There  was  a  jimmy,  a  knife,  a  lantern  and,  yes,  the 
very  article  I  wanted  for  leverage,  an  iron  bar.  There 
was  also  a  flask  of  whiskey. 

I  slipped  the  stout  little  iron  bar  under  the  buggy, 
braced  it  against  the  stone  as  a  fulcrum,  and  leaned 
my  weight  upon  it.  Slowly  it  lifted  and  I  put  the 

122 


A  MYSTERY  AT  MIDNIGHT 

wrench  underneath,  fixing  it  crudely  but  firmly,  so  as 
to  hold  the  buggy  up.  I  was  panting  now  from  the 
exertion  but,  looking  underneath,  I  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  that  I  would  be  able  to  free  the  old  man 
from  its  weight,  for  he  had  not,  after  all,  been  pinned 
under  the  heaviest  part  of  the  wagon  but  rather  held 
down  by  its  broken  and  torn  old  sides. 

I  searched  my  pockets  for  another  match — by  what 
ill  luck  was  I  in  a  dress  suit  when  I  had  a  highway- 
man's work  to  do  ? — and  yes,  here  was  one !  I  struck 
it  and  the  light  flashed  up.  I  picked  up  the  flask,  un- 
screwed the  top  and  leaned  forward  with  it  in  my 
hand.  A  drop  trickled  into  the  old  man's  mouth. 

I  lifted  my  head  to  take  a  breath  and — crash !  From 
the  back  there  came  a  blow  that  set  my  head  spin- 
ning I  fell  forward  and  I  could  feel  the  whiskey  or 
was  it  blood  trickling  over  my  hands?  Crack!  An- 
other blow!  But  it  did  not  stun  me  for  I  was  on  my 
feet  in  a  second,  striking  out  to  right  and  left.  I  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  melee ;  a  crowd  of  men  seemed  to 
have  come  mysteriously  from  somewhere.  There  was 
no  time  for  fighting  tactics  for  they  were  closing  in 
around  me  and  I  was  being  showered  with  blows. 
The  stars  seemed  to  have  gone  under  but  I  could  see 
darting,  shadowy  forms  in  the  blackness  and,  even  in 
my  dizziness,  I  heard  voices  as  I  charged  among 
them,  splintering  arms  and  jaws.  The  road  was  full 
and  there  were  lanterns  flashing  and  loud  cries  were 
in  the  air. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  the  combat  lasted  but  I 
know  that  there  were  many  lying  in  the  road  and  that 
my  fists  were  lame  and  swollen  for  days  afterwards. 

123 


A  blow  on  the  tip  of  the  chin  sent  my  head  back- 
ward and  I  felt  my  wrists  clutched.  With  a  quick 
jerk  I  freed  them  and  grabbed  the  arms  of  my  assail- 
ant. The  man  was  bigger  than  I,  but  I  had  his  arms 
pinned  to  his  side  and  was  pushing  him  backwards. 
If  I  could  twist  his  right  wrist  I  would  put  him  out  of 
the  fighting  and  there  would  be  one  less.  We  grap- 
pled and  I  forced  him  backward.  He  hit  forward  at 
me  with  his  head  and  I  handed  him  an  uppercut 
that  sent  him  down.  He  gave  a  cry  and  at  that  mo- 
ment, a  shrill  whistle  cut  the  air,  to  be  answered  by 
another  whistle  in  the  distance. 

I  could  not  look  as  I  was  rushing  my  man  backward 
and  we  were  near  the  edge  of  the  road  where  it 
dropped  into  a  ravine,  yet  I  could  feel  that  he  was 
gaining  upon  me. 

What  would  have  happened  next  I  do  not  know, 
but  a  flash  of  light  blinded  me,  and,  simultaneously,  I 
felt  my  arms  grabbed  and  pinioned  to  my  sides  while 
around  my  ankles  there  was  thrown  something  that 
held  them  fast. 

"Hold  him,  hold  him !"  I  heard  some  one  shout ; 
and  then  came  a  confusion  of  cries  and  whistles,  out 
of  which  a  loud,  harsh,  rasping  voice  made  itself 
heard. 

"You  can  see  for  yourself,  Constable,"  rasped  the 
voice,  "that  I  caught  him  in  the  act;  came  up  just  in 
the  nick  of  time." 

"What's  all  this?"  demanded  the  Constable,  throw- 
ing his  light  in  my  face,  and  directing  his  question  at 
me. 

"Ask  him,  he  evidently  knows  more  about  it  than 
124 


A  MYSTERY  AT  MIDNIGHT 

I  do,"  I  muttered,  gasping  and  trying  to  get  my  men- 
tal bearings. 

"We  caught  him  in  the  act  of  murdering  this  old 
man  and  adding  robbery  to  his  crime.  That's  enough 
to  hang  him  without  any  more." 

"That's  a  lie,  I 


"Bind  him  tight,"  interrupted  the  man,  "he's  des- 
perate." 

I  was  indeed  in  a  desperate  state  but  not  in  exactly 
the  way  my  aggressor  intimated.  My  head  was  dizzy 
and  the  pain  in  my  right  arm  was  stinging.  The  ropes 
cut  my  wrists  and  my  ankles  were  bound  with  more 
energy  than  human  kindness. 

The  rasping  voice,  evidently  that  of  the  leader,  spoke 
again  : 

"I  was  passing  here  with  some  of  the  servants  from 
the  Castle  when  I  heard  sounds  of  a  struggle,  we  ran 
in  this  direction  and  arrived  just  as  this  ruffian  was 
rifling  the  pockets  of  this  old  man,  who  was  already 
dead  as  you  see  him  now  —  stone  dead  !" 

"Who  is  this  man?"  asked  the  Constable,  stooping 
down  and  lifting  the  fallen  head. 

"No  use  asking  about  him  now,"  exclaimed  my  ac- 
cuser. "He's  dead  ;  done  for,  murdered  !  Fortunately 
I  caught  the  murderer  before  he  got  away.  I'll  wager 
a  gold  coin  he  intended  to  rob  the  Castle  afterwards, 
and  maybe,  murder  us  all  in  our  beds." 

The  tone  was  familiar  and  I  was  coming  out  of  my 
daze.  My  head  was  gradually  clearing  and  I  realized 
that  I  had  heard  the  voice  before  and  that  very  eve- 
ning. I  leaned  forward  and  looked  into  the  face  of 
the  man  standing  so  near  me,  making  a  big  hateful 

125 


THE  STAIRWAY   ON  THE   WALL 

shadow  in  the  night ;  yes,  I  was  not  mistaken ;  I  knew 
him!  It  was  Sir  Charles  and  upon  his  countenance 
there  was  a  worse  look  than  it  had  been  my  ill  for- 
tune to  see  before. 

"What  does  this  mean,  you  blackguard?"  I  shouted 
at  him.  "You  know  you  are  lying — that  every  word 
is  a  falsehood." 

He  jumped  to  one  side  but  the  cords  on  my  arms 
held. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  1  repeated,  looking  at  the 
Constable  and  speaking  more  collectedly.  "I  was 
walking  hurriedly  along  the  road  when  I  stumbled 
over  an  object.  I  stooped  to  examine  it,  and,  the  next 
moment,  I  was  surrounded  and  attacked ;  and,  now,  I 
am  in  the  hands  of  the  law,  accused  of  murder." 

The  Constable  looked  thick-headedly  at  Sir  Charles 
as  though  expecting  him  to  prompt  an  answer. 

"That's  a  likely  tale,"  sneered  the  nobleman. 

"Ask  him  what  he  is  doing  out  here  in  the  woods 
with  the  servants  from  the  Castle,  at  this  hour  of 
the  night,"  I  exclaimed. 

"Ask  him  what  he  is  doing  here  with  that  big  black 
bag,"  demanded  Sir  Charles,  picking  up  the  jimmy 
and  indicating  the  other  scattered  weapons. 

Luckily,  thought  I,  he  does  not  know  that  I  have 
the  pistol  in  my  pocket,  where  I  had  slipped  it  when 
Florentine  and  I  had  opened  the  bag  in  the  cab;  and, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  forgotten  it  myself. 

Sir  Charles  turned  his  head  sideways  and  smiled 
his  crooked  smile. 


126 


A 


CHAPTER  XII 

SIR  CHARLES  IS  DISCONCERTED 

COLD-BLOODED  and  high-handed  pro- 
ceeding," exclaimed  some  one  in  the 
crowd. 

"Cold-blooded !  I  should  say  so,"  cried  Sir  Charles, 
shaking  his  fist  at  me.  "And  desperate !  Why,  the 
wretch  would  have  killed  us  all  if  he  had  had  a 
chance.  He  has  stunned  or  killed  a  half  dozen  of  my 
servants  and  your  men." 

As  they  were  all  beginning  to  show  signs  of  life 
and  getting  to  their  feet,  though  in  a  state  of  more  or 
less  damage,  I  had  no  compunction  about  having  taken 
human  life.  Anyhow  my  plea  of  self-defence  would 
have  squared  matters  with  my  conscience — and  Flor- 
entine. 

Florentine!    Always  Florentine! 

"Better  search  him  for  weapons,"  suggested  some 
one.  As  I  had  both  hands  tied,  I  decided  to  offer  no 
objections  and  the  pistol  was  pulled  out  of  my  pocket. 

Sir  Charles  took  possession  of  it. 

"Just  as  I  expected,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  examined 
it,  turning  his  back  and  looking  sharply  into  it. 

I  watched  him  and  saw  him  do  an  odd  thing ;  he 
put  it  in  the  outside  pocket  of  his  coat. 

"He  has  another  in  his  hip,"  I  thought ;  and  I  had 
reason  to  confirm  this  opinion  afterwards. 

127 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"As  I  was  saying,  we  were  struggling  to  overpower 
the  brute  when  I  heard  your  whistle  which  I  an- 
swered; then  you  came  up  and " 

"I  was  out  for  poachers,"  interrupted  the  Consta- 
ble, "and  hearing  you,  I  hastened  over." 

"Very  fortunate  all  around — very  fortunate — but 
come,  let  us  be  moving ;  we  can't  stand  here  all  night." 
Sir  Charles  finished  like  a  man  who  does  not  know 
what  to  say  next.  I  tugged  at  my  bonds,  for  the 
temptation  to  poke  my  fist  into  his  face  was  too 
strong  to  have  been  overcome  could  1  have  got  my 
hand  free;  but  they  had  tied  me  with  the  leather 
reins. 

"Fortunate  enough !"  exclaimed  the  Constable. 
"Well,  come  along.  We  might  as  well  leave  the  old 
man  here  until  we  can  get  a  board  or  wagon."  Then, 
turning  his  attention  to  me,  "Loosen  his  feet  so  he  can 
walk  and  let  him  have  his  arms." 

"No — no,  not  his  arms!"  remonstrated  Sir  Charles. 
"Better  keep  him  cuffed  to  somebody."  As  he  spoke 
he  touched  his  vest  pocket,  pressing  and  patting  it 
as  though  it  were  a  precious  thing. 

It  was  a  new  movement — this  touching  of  the  pocket 
of  his  vest  in  an  important  manner — and  the  solici- 
tousness  of  it  caught  my  attention.  Was  it  a  new 
eccentricity  of  the  Baronet  affectionately  to  caress  the 
pocket  of  his  vest?  Or  did  the  vest  pocket  contain  a 
valuable  possession?  It  was  a  matter  over  which  I 
did  not  have  to  ponder  long. 

"Come  along,"  said  the  Constable,  turning  our  faces 
toward  the  high  road.  "I'll  take  the  risk  of  loosen- 
ing him  up  a  bit,"  he  continued  doggedly.  "I  think, 

128 


SIR   CHARLES   IS  DISCONCERTED 

Sir  Charles,  you  had  better  come,  too,  as  a  witness  and 
for — for  identification,"  he  went  on,  "as  we  do  not 
know  who  this  man  is — and  ic  is — necessary " 

The  Constable  was  in  evident  doubt  as  to  the  proper 
procedure  for  him  to  follow  in  murder  cases.  And, 
again,  he  turned  to  Sir  Charles  for  assistance. 

That  villain  looked  me  over  coolly  from  head  to 
foot  and  back  again. 

"I  think  I  have  seen  this  man  before,"  said  he,  "but 
I'm  not  positive.  He  has  been  spending  the  evening 
at  the  Castle — evidently," — with  a  perfectly  hideous 
leer  at  me — "and  I  think  we  better  conduct  him  back 
there  to  be  identified.  Possibly  he  is  not  unknown  to 
my  cousin,  the  Honorable  Florentine  Hadley,  and  in 
that  case  she  will  assist  us  in  the  work  of  identifica- 
tion." 

"You  ill-starred  liar,"  I  managed  to  say  to  him, 
but  I  did  not  dare  to  say  it  loudly  nor  violently,  for 
Florentine  had  been  mentioned  and  I  must  not  drag 
in  her  name  if  it  could  be  kept  out.  But,  oh,  how  I 
did  long  for  ten  free  fingers  with  which  to  choke  the 
tongue  out  of  Sir  Charles ! 

"You  ruffian !"  I  gasped.  Then  I  shut  my  mouth 
and  kept  it  shut,  for  it  is  a  wise  thing  to  keep  still  in 
a  tongue  fight. 

"Ask  him  what  he  intended  to  do  with  this." 

Sir  Charles  lifted  the  bottle  of  chloroform  and 
shook  it  in  the  Constable's  face. 

The  Constable  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  and  I 
thought  he  appeared  to  be  wavering.  Perhaps  it  was 
only  my  fancy  but  I  could  have  said  that  he  hated  and 
feared  Sir  Charles. 

129 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

Sir  Charles  uncorked  the  bottle  and  a  faint  sweet 
whiff  smote  our  nostrils.  "Enough  here  to  put 
twenty  men  to  sleep,"  he  observed. 

"I'd  like  to  bet  you've  done  some  good  work  in 
town  to-night,"  he  sneered,  looking  at  me.  "I'll  take 
chances  that  you've  helped  yourself  to  a  diamond  or 
so." 

My  heart  stopped  beating  though  I  would  not  have 
dared  to  say  why,  but  I  found  the  voice  to  re- 
tort: 

"If  the  diamonds  have  been  stolen  I'll  know  where 
to  look." 

Perhaps  I  hit  the  bull's-eye,  for  there  was  a  flush. 

"You  better  come  along,"  said  the  Constable. 

"You  haven't  asked  him  yet  what  he  was  doing 
here  with  the  servants  at  this  hour  of  the  night,"  I 
demanded,  and  then,  in  a  lower  tone,  I  muttered  to 
Sir  Charles :  "I'll  settle  with  you  later  about  that  black 
bag  and  its  contents." 

It  was  dark,  but  I  know  Sir  Charles  paled. 

"Ask  him,"  I  cried,  as  though  I  were  the  accuser 
and  he  the  accused. 

The  Constable  looked  at  Sir  Charles,  repeating  the 
question  dummylike. 

"My  carriage  broke  down  part  way  from  London," 
explained  that  gentlemanly  villain,  easily.  "And  as 
I  was  going  to  the  Castle  I  concluded  to  try  the  rest 
of  the  way  on  foot;  I  came  along  quite  noiselessly 
and,  as  I  reached  this  part  of  the  road,  I  heard  voices. 
Of  course  I  stopped  to  listen.  There  were  pistol  shots 
and  a  struggle  and  I  knew  that  somebody  had  been 
hurt,  perhaps  mortally." 

130 


SIR   CHARLES   IS  DISCONCERTED 

"What — what  did  you  do  then?"  asked  the  Con- 
stable. 

"I  hurried  to  the  Castle  to  get  help,  for,  of  course, 
I  could  do  nothing  by  myself  alone,"  and  the  ruffian 
held  up  his  mutilated  hand,  wrapped  in  the  white 
handkerchief:  "So,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  I  went  for 
assistance.  When  we  arrived  on  the  scene  we  found 
that  murder  had  been  committed.  This  man,"  indicat- 
ing me  with  a  wave  of  his  bad  hand,  "was  bending 
over  his  victim  and  searching  his  pockets  for  plun- 
der." 

"You  are  a  liar,"  I  yelled,  forgetting  prudence, 
"and  you  know  it ;  I'd  like  to  kill  you  this  minute." 

The  word  had  an  electrical  effect  upon  the  Consta- 
ble. It  was  as  if  I  had  already  committed  the  act. 

"You  are  right,  Sir  Charles,  sir!"  said  he,  tipping 
his  hat  and  getting  back  some  of  his  manner. 
"We  will  go  back  to  the  Castle.  Maybe — for  all 
we  know — there's  been  murder  done  there." 

"Very  likely!     I'd  like  to  bet  money  on  it." 

I'd  have  taken  up  his  bet,  but  I  bet  with  gentlemen 
only.  So  the  procession  turned  and  we  started  back, 
with  Sir  Charles  walking  ahead  with  the  black  bag  and 
the  lantern,  the  latter  curiously  hung  from  his  de- 
formed hand;  while  the  Constable  and  his  men — and 
I — followed  after. 

We  had  gone  only  a  few  steps  when  a  sound  in  the 
sidebrush  of  the  road  brought  us  to  a  halt.  Sir 
Charles  stepped  aside. 

"Go  on  without  me,"  he  called.  "I'll  follow.  Don't 
let  him  get  away,  Constable." 

We  stepped  along  but  I  managed  to  turn  my  head. 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

My  hat  was  gone  and  my  collar  was  wrenched  loose, 
while  a  sleeve  of  my  coat  was  torn  from  its  fastenings, 
but  my  wits  were  with  me.  So  bruised  and  dishevelled 
was  I  that  I  could  not  turn  comfortably ;  but  from  the 
tail  of  my  eye  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  flying  skirt  of 
brilliant  colors,  and  of  a  woman  with  something  odd 
wound  around  her  head.  Sir  Charles  tried  to  hide  her 
from  my  gaze,  but  I  saw  her  put  one  arm  around  his 
neck — or  was  the  starlight  playing  me  a  feeble  trick 
— and  draw  his  head  down. 

An  idea,  or  rather  an  association  of  ideas  flashed 
through  my  mind. 

"Step  lively,"  said  one  of  the  men,  giving  my  al- 
ready twisted  arm  a  jerk. 

"Step  lively,  yourself,"  I  retorted. 

But,  having  asserted  my  independence,  I  did  step 
livelier,  not  only  because  it  was  expedient  to  do  so, 
but  because  I  wanted  to  get  back  to  Florentine,  to 
whgm  the  news  of  the  new  work  of  deviltry  might 
have  traveled  ahead.  And  that  is  why,  when  I  again 
turned  my  head  to  look,  the  woman  had  disappeared, 
and  Sir  Charles  was  following  with  the  lantern  swing- 
ing from  his  mutilated  hand. 

He  looked  so  hateful,  so  utterly  devilish,  that  I 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  that  popped  into  my 
mind  to  insult  him. 

"Was  that  your  Sepoy?"  I  shouted. 

He  did  not  or  would  not  hear.  And,  so,  we  plodded 
back  toward  the  Castle. 


132 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  FLASH  OF  A  DIAMOND 

VARIOUS  thoughts,  and  not  very  happy  ones 
at  that,  went  through  my  mind.  Had  the 
news  been  broken  to  Florentine?  And  how 
would  she  take  it?  Would  she  swoon  as  girls  do  in 
books — and  believe  the  worst  of  me?  Would  she 
take  fright  at  my  appearance  and  think  me  the  rascal 
Sir  Charles  would  paint  me?  Was  she  of  the  stuff 
to  be  moulded  by  the  caprice  of  another?  Could  she 
continue  to  believe  in  me  in  spite  of  the  evidence 
which  I  now  saw  would  be  considerable? 

But,  and  here  was  the  maddening  thought,  how 
about  her  marriage — our  marriage — and  how  about 
Sir  Charles!  That  he  had  determined  to  marry  her 
at  any  hazard  was  now  perfectly  clear  to  me,  and 
that  he  would  stop  at  nothing — life,  death,  robbery, 
nor  any  other  thing — was  equally  evident.  With  me 
out  of  the  way  he  might  be  able  to  force  her  into  it, 
for,  though  the  aunts  hated  him,  they  also  feared  him, 
and  I  had  no  faith,  anyway,  in  their  moral  strength 
to  resist. 

My  poor  darling!  It  was  not  on  my  account  that 
I  was  troubled,  but  on  hers ;  with  nerves  weakened 
by  the  shock  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  would  she 
give  way  ?  For  her  to  give  way  meant  certain  triumph 
for  Sir  Charles.  But  I  would  at  least  have  time  for 

133 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

a  word  with  her,  a  look,  a  sign  of  love,  a  whisper  of 
courage,  and,  more  than  all,  a  hint  of  warning. 

We  were  approaching  the  Castle ;  already  we  had 
made  the  sharp  turn  in  the  road,  and  Florentine,  with 
her  face  pressed  against  the  square  of  yellow  light  in 
the  drawing-room,  had  seen  us  coming.  For  a  min- 
ute she  stared  hard,  then  seeing  me  all  torn  and 
bloody — she  told  me  afterwards  that  she  thought  I 
was  dead — she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  But  it 
was  only  for  a  second.  A  minute  later,  as  we  came  up 
the  broad  walk  and  were  mounting  the  Castle  steps, 
she  stood  in  the  doorway,  brave  and  ready. 

Though  it  was  hardly  the  time  nor  place  to  take 
note  of  a  lady's  appearance,  I  want  to  record  the  fact 
that  never  had  I  seen  so  beautiful  a  vision.  If  she 
had  been  a  Lorelei  she  would  have  led  men  on  to  their 
doom ;  but  being  an  angel  it  was  evident  she  was  put 
there  to  point  the  way  toward  salvation. 

Never  did  so  gruesome  a  company  behold  so  lovely 
a  sight.  Her  calmness  was  in  strange  contrast  to  our 
quarrelsome  discord. 

She  had  thrown  off  her  cloak  and  her  exquisite 
neck  and  arms  gleamed  white  against  the  yellow 
glow  of  the  open  doorway.  Her  hair,  always  like 
spun  silver,  was  burnished  into  frosted  gold  by  the 
candle  flashes  and  her  eyes,  great  beautiful  eyes,  were 
soft  with  a  message  which  meant  much  to  me.  She  was 
white  and  her  lips,  a  bright  ripe  red,  when  last  I  saw 
them,  were  pale.  But  she  was  quite  composed.  I 
noted  with  joy,  even  at  that  moment  that  she  was 
the  sort  of  woman  who  grows  cool  and  courageous 
in  the  face  of  trouble.  Only  in  her  eyes  there  was 

134 


THE   FLASH   OF  A   DIAMOND 

a  flash  of  terror,  and  when  she  saw  Sir  Charles,  she 
trembled. 

Once  did  her  nerve  fail  her  and  then  only  for  a 
moment.  When  she  saw  me,  she  gave  a  cry  and  ran 
forward.  I  thought  she  was  going  to  throw  herself 
upon  me.  Sir  Charles  saw  it  too  and  I  heard  him 
curse  under  his  breath. 

"Florentine,  go  into  the  house,"  he  ordered. 

She  hesitated  and  looked  at  me.  A  motion  of  my 
head  told  her  to  go. 

"And  lock  up  your  pearls,"  he  called  after  her. 
"We've  got  a  robber  here  and  a  murderer;  you  don't 
know  him  as  well  as  I  do." 

Sir  Charles  looked  at  her  with  what  he  intended 
for  a  smile  but  which  ended  in  a  leer. 

"Florentine,"  he  said,  as  low  as  his  rasping  voice 
would  permit,  "he  is  a  knave  and  I  can  prove  it." 

"I  think — if  I  know  the  gentleman — he  will  give 
you  a  chance  to  prove  it  some  day,"  she  retorted  with 
a  spirit  which  surprised  me. 

It  took  Sir  Charles  by  surprise  also,  for  he  flushed 
purple.  "Wait,  Florentine,"  he  uttered  thickly,  "I've 
got  something  for  you — a  present." 

It  was  his  one  soft  spot,  his  one  good  trait  that  he 
loved  Florentine.  He  whispered,  and  I  could  have 
sworn  that  he  said  a  wedding  present,  for  Florentine 
tossed  her  head  angrily. 

With  fumbling  fingers  he  searched  the  pocket  of 
his  vest  on  the  left  side — he  could  not  search  with 
the  right  hand — and  out  of  it  he  drew  a  small  object. 
It  was  not  so  very  little,  either,  but  it  looked  small  as 
he  fumbled  it  in  his  awkward  left  hand  fingers. 

135 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

So  this  was  the  treasure  he  had  been  affectionately 
and  proudly  patting  in  the  pocket  of  his  vest ! 

He  held  it  up  until  it  caught  the  light. 

"It  is  for  you,  Florentine,"  he  said,  "a  present  for 
you." 

He  turned  it  in  his  hand  and  a  spark  of  light  from 
within  the  house  fell  upon  it.  Instantly  I  saw  it  flash ; 
it  was  a  diamond, — a  diamond  of  wonderful  size  and 
of  remarkable  brilliancy. 

"How  beautiful !"  was  Florentine's  involuntary  ex- 
clamation as  he  extended  it  toward  her. 

"Take  it!" 

"It  is  a  lovely  stone,"  said  the  girl,  drawing  back 
her  hand,  "but  I  do  not  want  it — from  you." 

"The  Devil !"  he  exclaimed.  And  then  he  muttered 
something  low.  It  sounded  as  though  he  said,  "I'll 
make  you  pay  for  this  insult." 

Then  lifting  the  diamond  high,  so  that  its  flash 
could  be  seen  for  a  long  distance  he  let  the  light  play 
upon  it. 

"Look !"  he  cried,  turning  to  the  men.  He  must 
have  been  intoxicated  with  vanity  to  make  -such  a  dis- 
play. "Look !  A  wedding  present  for  the  Honorable 
Miss  Hadley,  a  diamond  worth  a  king's  ransom !" 

There  was  a  rustle  in  the  brush, — a  sharp  rustle, 
which  both  Florentine  and  I  distinctly  heard.  She 
looked  quickly  and  I  followed  her  eyes,  but  we  could 
see  nothing.  A  murmur  from  the  men  rose  as  they 
crowded  around  to  see. 

"It's  worth  the  whole  county,"  bragged  Sir 
Charles ;  "and  it  shall  grace  the  brow  of  my  bride, 
the  Honorable  Florentine  Hadley." 

136 


THE  FLASH   OF  A   DIAMOND 

Florentine  caught  his  last  words  and  glanced  con- 
temptuously at  him ;  then  turning  to  go  into  the  house 
she  looked  back  and  deliberately  laughed ! 

Sir  Charles  choked  with  anger  but  he  lifted  the 
diamond  again. 

"A  wedding  present  for  my  bride !" 

It  caught  the  light  once  more  and  its  flash  flew 
wide,  bringing  forth  an  involuntary  exclamation  from 
the  crowd. 

Then  Sir  Charles  put  it  back  in  his  vest  pocket. 

As  he  did  so  both  Florentine  and  I  turned  in  the 
direction  of  the  brush  from  which  there  came  a  dis- 
tinct crackling. 

How  we  got  into  the  Castle  I  don't  remember.  But 
I  know  that,  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  we 
were  in  the  hallway  with  Aunt  Faith,  Aunt  Hope  and 
Aunt  Charity  standing  around  me,  and  Uncle  Henry 
filling  up  the  background.  Mr.  Bradstreet  was  there, 
and  the  family  servants  were  huddled  in  a  frightened 
group,  while  the  Constable's  posse  stood  guard  over  all. 

They  were  all  talking  at  once,  and  in  the  melee 
and  the  mix-up,  Florentine  slipped  to  my  side  and  I 
bent  my  head  low  enough  for  her  to  whisper  in  my 
ear.  Her  lips  managed  to  touch  my  face  and  she 
spoke  softly  to  me.  Sir  Charles  had  disappeared  or 
we  would  not  have  had  this  minute's  whisper. 

"There's  a  revolver  in  his  coat  pocket,"  I  said 
softly.  "Get  it  and  hide  it  in  your  bodice." 

She  disappeared  in  the  crowd,  for  there  were  at 
least  twenty  men  of  us  and,  when  she  reappeared,  she 
touched  her  bosom  to  show  me  that  she  had  hidden  it 
there. 

137 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

But  now  the  commotion  began ;  they  were  talking 
and  gesturing  and  arguing.  In  the  midst  of  it  all,  I 
could  make  out  that  Sir  Charles  wanted  me  locked  up 
for  murder.  He,  himself,  was  perfectly  willing  to 
bear  testimony  that  he  had  been  an  eye-witness  of  the 
crime.  He  had  seen  me  murder  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pan- 
coast.  His  object — now  apparent — in  bringing  me 
to  the  Castle  was  to  have  Florentine  see  me  all  bloody 
and  battered,  and  to  let  her  hear  me  accused  of  crime. 
He  thought  that,  if  he  could  get  me  locked  up,  even 
for  a  few  hours,  he  would  be  able  to  bring  enough 
pressure  to  bear  upon  Florentine  to  force  her  to 
marry  him.  But  he  did  not  know  Florentine. 

It  has  always  been  my  opinion  that,  if  men  \vere 
better  listeners  there  would  be  more  men  in  Para- 
dise. If  they  would  hear  the  voice  of  the  woman 
who  loves  them  she  would  lead  them  straight  to  the 
Celestial  Gate,  past  all  this  earth's  pitfalls,  right  into 
Heaven  itself.  I  believe  that  the  men  who  succeed 
are  those  who  have  asked  a  woman  to  tell  them  how 
to  succeed,  and  I  know  that  at  least  one  who  is  out  of 
prison  has  managed  to  keep  out  because  of  a  woman's 
intercession. 

At  the  mention  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast's  name, 
Florentine  exclaimed: 

"Poor,  dear,  old  Mr.  Pancoast,  where  is  he?" 

"Lying  in  the  road,  where  this  villain  left  him,"  an- 
swered Sir  Charles,  indicating  me  with  a  hideous  ges- 
ture. 

"But  we  cannot,  surely,  leave  him  lying  there.  We 
must  go  and  get  him  and  bring  him  to  the  Castle." 

138 


THE   FLASH   OF  A   DIAMOND 

"No  use,  your  Ladyship,"  said  the  Constable.  "He's 
dead,  stiff,  stark  dead!  And  his  horse,  too!" 

"Poor  old  Jephtha's  Daughter!  But  we  must  not 
leave  Mr.  Pancoast  lying  out  in  the  road,  it  is  ter- 
rible, inhuman !  We  must  bring  him  here  until  he 
can  be  taken  home." 

"What's  the  use  of  bothering  with  a  dead  man," 
growled  Sir  Charles. 

Florentine  shot  an  indignant  glance  at  him. 

"We  must  go  and  bring  his  body  here,"  said  she, 
"and  I  am  going  with  you.  Uncle  Henry  will  accom- 
pany us,  will  you  not,  Uncle  Henry?" 

Uncle  Henry  acquiesced  and  while  Uncle  Henry 
was  saying  that  he  would  go  with  her,  Florentine 
had  darted  up  the  stairs  and  was  gone.  I  looked  at 
Uncle  Henry;  mechanically,  he  was  taking  the  palette 
off  his  thumb;  and  Aunt  Hope,  whose  sympathies 
were  with  Florentine,  was  finding  his  hat  and  coat. 

"I  wanted  to  show  you  that  picture  of  the  bath- 
tub," said  Uncle  Henry,  looking  at  me  wistfully. 

"Wait  awhile,"  I  said,  for  it  was  evidently  not  the 
hour  for  any  art  criticism. 

Florentine  was  back  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
time,  looking  very  trim  in  her  short  tweed  skirt  and 
walking  shoes ;  but,  even  while  she  was  gone,  Sir 
Charles  had  whispered  to  the  Constable  something 
which  made  that  rather  pliable  gentleman  change  his 
mind. 

"I'm  afraid  it  won't  do,  Madame,"  he  said  to  Flor- 
entine, as  she  stood  in  the  hallway,  waiting  for  us. 
"We  are  only  wasting  time  and  this  fellow  must  be 
locked  up  first." 

139 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"We  are  going  now  and  you  can  lock  him  up  af- 
terwards," answered  she  promptly,  as  she  coolly 
pulled  on  her  gauntlet  gloves. 

"I  don't  like  to  take  chances,  Miss,  when  there's 
murder  on  our  hands.  And  I'm  for  putting  this  man 
in  jail  as  quick  as  possible.  There's  a  back  road  lead- 
ing down  from  the  Castle  grounds,  and,  as  it's  the 
shortest  cut  to  the  jail,  I'm  for  taking  it  and  getting 
our  man  safely  housed." 

"Sensible  officer,"  exclaimed  Sir  Charles.  "We  will 
go  down  the  back  road  and  get  him  behind  bars." 

But  again  he  reckoned  without  Florentine. 

"It  is  inhuman,"  declared  she,  "positively  inhuman 
to  leave  an  old  man  lying  dead  in  the  road  at  mid- 
night, the  prey  of  robbers,  wild  animals  and  we  don't 
know  what!" 

"That's  so,  your  ladyship,"  agreed  the  Constable, 
again  veering. 

"Come,  then,  with  me,  all  of  you,"  she  cried  like  a 
Joan  of  Arc,  "and  we  will  bring  the  body  here  and 
then — then — we  will " 

I  looked  at  Florentine  and  she  steadied  her  voice: 

"Then,"  she  said  clearly,  "we  will  send  this  man  to 
jail." 

I  will  remark,  almost  in  parenthesis,  that  it  is  not 
at  all  like  me  to  be  so  quiet  on  an  occasion  like  this, 
when  life,  liberty  and  happiness  were  all  so  closely 
concerned.  But  it  certainly  seemed  a  time  when  elo- 
quence on  my  part  would  be  wasted,  so  I  said  nothing. 

"It's  as  you  say,  your  Ladyship,"  said  the  Constable 
as  we  turned  to  retrace  our  steps. 


140 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WITH   INTENT  TO   KILL 

SIR  CHARLES  had  been  an  irritated  listener  to 
the  last  part  of  our  conversation,  one  foot 
stamping  the  ground  like  an  impatient  horse. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  going  to  let 
this  rascal  go  with  us  ?"  he  demanded,  facing  the  Con- 
stable. 

The  latter  stammered  something. 

"Yes,  I'm  going,  and  I  haven't  got  a  crown  diamond 
in  my  pocket  either,"  I  flung  at  him. 

It  was  a  senseless  remark  but  it  hit  him  on  the 
raw.  His  face  tightened  until  it  seemed  all  muscle 
and  the  flesh  turned  green  in  the  lantern  light.  We 
were  almost  in  front  of  the  Castle  and  decency  should 
have  kept  him  quiet,  but  it  was  not  in  his  make-up. 

"You'll  pay  for  that,  you "  he  shouted,  and  I 

saw  his  hand  go  to  his  hip. 

"The  pistol!"  gasped  Florentine.  "He  has  a  pistol 
in  his  pocket." 

And,  then,  before  I  realized  it,  I  saw  it!  It  was  in 
his  left  hip  pocket  and  his  left  hand  was  grasping  it. 
I  looked  at  him  in  amazement;  surely  he  would  not 
be  so  reckless  as  to  shoot !  Would  he,  an  English 
baronet,  cut  down  an  unarmed  man,  in  the  open,  un- 
sheltered and  undefended?  His  fingers  closed  around 
the  weapon  and  I  saw  that  he  was  taking  aim.  The 

141 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON   THE    WALL 

skill  with  which  he  was  manipulating  it  suggested  his 
Sepoy  training;  he  could  shoot  from  the  hip;  and 
he  was  pointing  his  pistol  full  at  me,  his  finger  was 
upon  the  trigger. 

In  the  interval  I  had,  unnoticed,  worked  my  hands 
free,  and  quick  as  a  flash  I  shot  forward  and,  with  an 
old  trick,  learned  in  boyhood,  I  lunged  past  him  and 
caught  his  elbow  from  the  back  driving  it  upward 
with  one  swift  blow  that  sent  the  pistol  pointing  down- 
ward. His  finger  pressed  it  and  it  discharged  into 
the  ground,  barely  missing  his  own  foot;  he  swore  a 
descriptive  oath  and  hurled  himself  forward  at  me, 
and  I  fell  on  him. 

Perhaps  to  my  shame  I  tell  it  now,  that  I  fought 
a  cripple ;  his  right  hand  was  fingerless  and  he  was  di- 
vested of  those  five  telling  weapons  in  a  fight.  But 
I  tell  it  also  that,  never  in  all  my  experience  as  an 
athlete — and  I  have  boxed  and  wrestled  with  the  best 
of  them — did  I  encounter  such  strength.  His  right 
hand  he  used  as  a  club,  a  great  terrific  weapon  of  bone 
and  muscle ;  and,  with  his  mighty  left  arm,  he  held  and 
twisted  me.  He  was  fingerless  on  the  right,  but  like 
most  cripples  he  had  developed  his  normal  side  until 
it  was  of  abnormal  strength;  and  his  great  left  leg 
and  thigh  and  powerful  body  muscles  crushed  and 
bent  me,  while  his  superior  weight  bore  me  under  as 
a  mighty  log  might  carry  under  a  stick  of  driftwood ; 
I  stiffened  in  his  grasp,  helpless. 

What  would  have  been  the  outcome  I  do  not  know, 
but  with  a  quickness  which  was  an  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  I  drew  a  long  breath  and  suddenly  re- 
laxed. It  was  a  ruse  as  old  as  the  grassy  crest  on 

142 


WITH  INTENT   TO   KILL 


which  we  fought,  but  it  worked.  I  could  feel  his 
mighty  weight  settling  upon  me;  then,  easing  a  little, 
as  he  saw  that  his  blows  had  done  their  work,  he 
rolled  a  little  to  one  side  to  rest,  and,  then,  before  he 
could  recover — for  I  was  quicker  than  he — I  dealt 
him  a  rib  blow  which  doubled  him;  and,  while  he 
panted,  I  wriggled  out  from  under  and  sprang  to 
my  feet.  It  was  none  too  soon  for  he  was  up  and 
after  me. 

Drawing  back  his  great  club  of  a  right  arm,  he 
threw  all  his  strength  into  it;  and,  with  a  vile  oath, 
he  hurled  himself  toward  me.  I  saw  him  coming,  and, 
by  a  trick  of  the  jiu  jitsu,  learned  in  my  schoolboy 
days,  I  ducked,  and,  as  I  ducked,  I  gave  his  arm  a 
swift  downward  blow,  so  as  to  bend  it  at  the  elbow, 
and  at  the  same  I  clinched  my  fist  and  struck  his  hand 
from  underneath. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  and  the  great  muscular  thing 
caught  it  full.  The  wrist  turned  and,  with  all  its 
force,  it  drove  the  hand  back  home.  He  struck  him- 
self full  in  the  mouth.  With  a  great  yell  he  sank  to 
his  knees,  the  blood  spurting  from  nose  and  lips. 

Many  a  time  have  I  seen  this  trick  done  in  the 
gymnasium  but  never  with  so  deadly  an  effect.  I 
looked  at  Sir  Charles  and  made  a  motion  to  help  him ; 
for  the  blood  seemed  spouting  from  all  his  features, 
and,  in  spite  of  my  disgust,  I  felt  a  pity  for  him. 

I  did  not  dare  to  glance  at  Florentine;  when  I 
did  look  she  had  turned  her  head  away. 

Perhaps  Sir  Charles  had  not  dealt  himself  as  fatal 
a  blow  as  I  feared ;  perhaps  the  bloody  spurt  was  more 
spectacular  than  vital,  but  I  know  he  was  soon  on  his 

143 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

feet  again — for  he  had  been  felled  by  his  own  hand — 
when,  if  I  may  be  believed,  his  fingers  wandered  not 
to  his  pistol  pocket  but  to  the  pocket  of  his  vest — the 
pocket  in  which  he  had  placed  the  diamond. 

The  instinct  of  greed  was  strong  even  at  such  a 
moment. 

"It's  safe — until  somebody  murders  you  to  get  it," 
I  muttered  at  him.  It  was  the  most  foolish  remark  of 
my  life;  but  my  anger  at  the  name  he  had  called  me 
and  at  the  pointed  pistol  died  hard. 

"Murder,"  he  cried  with  shattered  nerve.  "Oh,  my 
God!" 

"Come,  come,  no  more  of  this,  gentlemen,"  ordered 
the  Constable,  who  had  stood  an  actless  spectator. 
"If  we  are  going  down  the  road  we'd  best  be  moving 
along." 

I  stepped  over  to  his  side,  and  Sir  Charles,  still 
spluttering  and  making  futile  attempts  at  righting  his 
clothes,  took  the  other  part  of  the  road. 

"Officer,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  call  you  and  all  the  rest 
to  witness  that  this  man  made  a  murderous  attack 
upon  me  and  I  command  you  to  arrest  him  for  assault 
with  intent  to  kill." 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  Constable,  and  his  voice 
indicated  that  he  meant  to  follow  instructions.  "Now 
get  in  line,"  shouted  he.  "You  are  my  prisoner ;  walk 
next  to  me." 

I  nodded  acquiescence  and  Sir  Charles  darted  a 
cautious  look  in  my  direction. 

"Florentine,"  he  called,  looking  over  to  where  my 
lady  of  the  trim  skirt  and  walking  shoes  stood  by 
the  roadside,  "you  come  here  and  walk  with  me." 

144 


WITH  INTENT   TO   KILL 


For  answer,  Florentine  flashed  a  look  of  contempt 
at  him  and,  without  speaking,  she  stepped  over  and 
took  her  place  next  me.  So  we  started  down  the  road 
again. 

It  was  the  third  time  I  had  traveled  it  on  foot  that 
night,  but  now  that  I  had  Florentine  by  my  side,  I 
cared  nothing.  Certain  arrest  awaited  me  and  im- 
prisonment. But  to  have  the  lady  of  my  dreams  with 
me  this  moment  under  the  golden  stars  was  sufficient 
consolation  for  all  the  horror  that  was  to  come.  In 
the  interval  at  the  Castle  I  had  managed  to  get 
straightened  up  a  bit  so  that,  in  spite  of  my  experi- 
ence, I  looked  a  little  less  desperate  than  when  I  last 
traversed  the  rough  path. 

Florentine  managed  to  keep  step  with  the  Consta- 
ble and  me,  and,  sometimes,  as  a  blessed  privilege,  the 
soft  wind  blew  her  skirts  across  me. 

"I  shall  not  be  gone  long,"  I  whispered.  "I  shall 
be  released  some  day." 

For  answer  she  seized  my  arm  in  her  two  warm 
hands.  "I  cannot  let  you  go — at  all,"  she  said. 

"Do  not ."  I  tried  to  say  but  my  voice  caught; 

and  I  could  utter  no  word.  So  we  talked  in  silence, 
that  speaking  language  of  those  who  think  the  things 
which  others  must  not  hear  them  say. 

In  a  life-time  of  casual  acquaintance  we  could  never 
have  been  drawn  together  as  by  the  character  tests  of 
this  night. 

We  went  down  the  steep  grade,  made  the  sharp 
turn  and  plodded  ahead  along  the  carriage  road. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  except  the  stony  path 
which  stretched  like  a  wide  grey  ribbon  in  front  of 

145 


us.  Overhead  hung  the  tree  branches  canopied  with 
a  network  of  leaves  that  looked  like  black  lace 
against  the  dark  blue  sky. 

Once  in  the  semi-darkness,  I  again  caught  a  flutter 
of  pink  and  grey,  of  scarlet  and  blue  and  the  faintest 
rustle  of  soft  silk.  "The  Sepoy  girl,"  I  said  to  my- 
self. "But  why  is  she  here?"  A  question  which  I 
speedily  answered  to  my  own  satisfaction  when  I  saw 
her  walking  almost  upon  the  heels  of  Sir  Charles. 
And  then  I  remembered  the  story  of  how  they  had 
gone  out  to  India  together,  and  how  the  girl  would 
not  remain  in  India  after  Sir  Charles'  return.  It 
was  not  such  a  pretty  chapter  of  family  history  that 
I  wanted  to  dwell  upon  it,  with  Florentine  by  my 
side,  so  I  dismissed  it  at  once. 

Florentine  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"Oh,  I  am  so — so  sorry !" 

"Sorry  for  what?"  I  asked. 

"For — for  getting  you  into  trouble — this  terrible 
night's  disgrace." 

"It  is  Sir  Charles,"  I  replied  promptly,  "and  it's  no 
disgrace  to  love  a  lady." 

She  gave  my  arm  a  trembling  squeeze.  "But  the 
arrest — the  awful  imprisonment." 

"I  shall  at  least  be  near  you " 

"Hush,"  she  whispered,  clutching  me  with  a  ner- 
vous hand.  "There  are  things  I  do  not  understand 
but  I  dare  not  speak  of  them  now." 

I  looked  and  saw  the  Sepoy  girl  crowding  against 
Florentine  as  though  to  catch  each  word. 

"Neither  do  I  understand,"  I  replied  hotly.  "But 
146 


WITH  INTENT   TO   KILL 


I  shall  not  have  to  wait  long  before  I  do  under- 
stand  " 

Hello !  There  was  a  shout  from  the  man  ahead ; 
in  the  dark  he  had  fallen,  as  I  had,  upon  the  head 
of  the  dead  horse.  Hello !  we  all  came  up,  the  whole 
party  of  us,  and  over  the  old  dead  animal  the  others 
climbed. 

"Be  careful,"  I  cautioned,  catching  hold  of  Flor- 
entine. "Lean  on  me  and  do  not  be  afraid.  It  will 
be  a  shock  to  you  to  see  the  dead  man." 

I  peered  ahead.  The  buggy,  borne  down  by  some 
trick  of  wind  or  weight,  had  turned  completely  over, 
partially  overturning  the  old  horse  with  it,  and  now 
it  could  not  be  righted  until  the  harness  had  been  cut 
free,  and,  until  that  time,  the  rescuers  could  not  lib- 
erate the  body  of  old  Mr.  Pancoast. 

They  crowded  around,  discussing  how  best  to  lift 
the  wagon.  The  harness  must  be  cut,  but  there  were 
no  knives  heavy  enough  to  do  it.  So  it  ended  by  dis- 
patching two  laborers  back  to  the  Castle  for  tools 
with  which  to  do  the  work.  And  this  meant  a  delay 
of  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 


147 


CHAPTER  XV 

A   MOMENT  OF  TEMPTATION 

I  KEPT  at  Florentine's  side,  she  was  trembling  so. 
"Sweet  girl,"  I  whispered,  "do  not  fear!'' 
She  murmured  something  into  my  downheld 
ear  and  I  knew  that  her  grief  was  because  I  must 
leave  her  so  soon. 

"But  you  are  not  afraid?"  I  asked. 

"I  dread  and  I  fear,"  she  managed  to  say. 

And  then  in  little  broken  words  she  explained  to 
me  that  she  knew  I  was  innocent,  but  that,  under  the 
stern  English  laws,  I  would  never  go  free.  With 
Sir  Charles  and  the  Constable  against  me  for  assault, 
and  the  dead  body  of  old  Mr.  Pancoast  as  witness  of 
murder,  I  would  either  be  hung  at  once,  in  the  inex- 
orable English  way  or  rot  out  years  of  my  life  in  an 
English  prison.  She  told  me,  sobbing  and  shivering, 
but  I  heard  and  knew. 

I,  too,  saw  my  doom.  But  it  was  not  the  future 
that  I  dreaded  for  myself,  it  was  the  fate  of  Floren- 
tine if  I  were  taken  from  her. 

Beyond,  in  the  blackness,  stood  the  Constable  and 
his  men  waiting  for  the  laborers  to  return  from  the 
Castle;  all  were  talking  excitedly;  we  were  unob- 
served. 

Suddenly  and  almost  hysterically,  Florentine  threw 
her  arms  around  me.  We  were  strangers,  yet  we 

148 


A  MOMENT  OF   TEMPTATION 

were  flung  together  by  Fate  as  certainly  as  though 
tossed  by  an  earthquake  into  an  abyss  that  held  only 
us  two;  in  a  few  hours  we  had  lived  the  life  that  ex- 
perience deals  out  dallying  through  the  years. 

"Do  you  love  me?"  she  asked,  her  lips  almost 
against  my  cheek. 

I  did  not  reply;  it  was  no  time  for  mere  speech. 
Her  next  words  brought  the  blood  to  my  face. 

"Then,  if  you  love  me,  do  not  go !" 

"Go,  sweetheart?" 

"Do  not  go  away  from  me — if  you  love  me,  you  will 
not  let  them  take  you  away." 

"But " 

"You  need  not  go  with  them,  listen  to  me  and  I 
will  show  you." 

In  quick,  loving,  excited  words,  she  told  me  how 
there  was  a  path  just  off  there  in  the  woods,  through 
which  we  might  easily  slip.  She  knew  the  road  well, 
had  taken  it  a  hundred  times  as  a  child;  and,  once  in 
the  woods,  we  could  find  our  way  to  the  crossing 
where  there  lived  a  tenant  who  would  risk  his  life 
for  her.  And  he  would  carry  us  to  London.  Once 
there — once  there — the  dear  girl  could  think  of  no 
more — she  would  leave  the  rest  to  me.  But  in  the 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes  we  could  gain  such  headway 
that  they  could  not  find  us,  and  she  doubted  if  Sir 
Charles,  moral  coward  as  he  was,  would  dare  to  alarm 
the  countryside  to  search  for  us. 

"They  will  think  we  have  returned  to  the  Castle 
and  we  shall  have  an  hour  to  get  away  before  they 
miss  us,"  she  urged. 

The  dear  girl  put  her  arms  around  my  neck.  I 
149 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

lifted  my  head  to  clear  my  brain  in  the  cool  night  air 
and  her  throat  touched  mine. 

"Kiss  me,"  she  begged. 

I  bent  my  head,  her  full  lips  parted  and  her  round 
red  mouth,  like  a  love  apple,  tempted  me. 

"Take  me  and  let  us  go,"  she  cried.  "I  cannot  live 
to  see  them  put  you  in  a  cell  and — and " 

Her  voice  broke  and  I  knew  the  truth ;  she  was 
afraid  of  Sir  Charles,  horribly  afraid. 

The  woods  lay  green  and  fragrant  ahead  of  us ;  and, 
in  the  distance,  one  could  imagine,  almost  feel,  the 
lights  of  London. 

"Put  your  arm  around  me,  so  I  can  guide  you,  and 
let  us  dash  through  the  woods,"  she  whispered,  her 
tears  on  both  our  cheeks. 

It  was  the  moment  when  the  man  decides !  I 
raised  my  head. 

"Yes,  we  will  go,"  I  said.  "Come !  We  can  make 
good  speed ;  now  for  the  woods !" 

We  took  a  furtive  step,  glancing  cautiously  back. 
They  were  busy  with  the  buggy  and  had  forgotten  us. 
The  way  through  the  trees  was  dark  and  safe ;  and 
I  knew  under  Florentine's  lead  we  could  make  the 
road.  Once  in  London  I  would  seek  the  home  of 
the  American  Ambassador  where,  with  my  word  that 
I  had  committed  no  crime,  I  could  at  least  find  sanc- 
tuary. To-morrow  in  the  dawn  we  could  make  the 
Calais-Dover  crossing,  thence  to  Cherbourg  and — 
home.  By  that  time  the  real  criminal  would  be  found 
— the  murderer  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast — and  the 
matter  would  die  down. 

We  took  a  stealthy  step  into  the  crackling  under- 
150 


'A  MOMENT  OF   TEMPTATION 

brush.  I  glanced  at  Florentine ;  her  eyes  were  on  my 
face  with  a  curious  expression.  All  of  a  sudden,  our 
positions  had  changed;  she  had  a  maternal  look,  the 
look  of  a  woman  who  broods  over,  fears  for,  excuses 
and  protects  the  thing  she  loves. 

A  twig  snapped.  "Stoop  low,"  she  said  sharply ; 
"they  will  see  you;  oh,  my  love,  if  they  should  cap- 
ture you  now — running." 

There  was  a  glance  of  nervous  apprehension  upon 
her  face,  a  look  that  cut  me  to  the  quick. 

"Don't  move !"  she  breathed,  as  she  drew  her  skirt 
across  my  shirt  bosom.  It  was  the  instinct  with  which 
a  woman  shields  a  murderer,  and  I  saw  the  shame  of 
it,  the  degradation,  and  the  scandal. 

I  stood  upright  and  stamped  upon  the  underbrush 
and  the  dry  twigs  snapped  like  pistol  shots. 

"Florentine,"  I  exclaimed  aloud,  "I  am  not  going. 
I  shall  not  run.  I  cannot  take  you  with  me  this 
way." 

And  then  I  kissed  her  and  told  her  the  reason. 

There  are  great  physical  tests  through  which  a 
woman  goes  more  proudly  than  a  man ;  he  quails  and 
blanches,  an  arrant  coward,  where  she  is  as  courage- 
ous as  a  knight. 

But  there  are  tests  in  which  the  man  weighs;  each 
sex  is  stronger  along  the  paths  in  which  it  has  had 
the  more  experience;  she  in  the  physical  world,  he  in 
the  moral. 

There,  in  the  woods,  screened  by  the  night,  with 
the  voices  of  the  men  coming  excitedly  to  us,  I  took 
Florentine  in  my  arms  and  told  her  why.  There  were 
other  people  in  the  world,  and  in  the  world  yet  to 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

dawn,  besides  us  two,  and  there  was  a  very  mighty 
God 

But  she  interrupted  me  with  a  cry  of  terror: 

"I  shall  die;  I  am  afraid  of  my  cousin;  he  is  so 
strong,  so  brutally  strong." 

Sir  Charles!  An  ice  cold  chill  passed  over  me;  I 
drew  my  hand  across  my  brow  and  shook  it  drip- 
ping; in  the  middle  of  my  forehead  the  great  blue  vein 
stood  out  like  a  whipcord  and,  as  the  cool  air  touched 
me,  I  realized  that  there  was  not  one  dry  thread  upon 
me. 

"Take  me,"  she  begged,  "far  away  from  here." 

At  that  nerve-racking  moment  she  saw  only  a  way 
out  of  the  danger  in  which  she  thought  she  had 
placed  me,  but  I  beheld  further;  she  dreaded  the  bars 
for  me,  but  I  winced  at  the  color  supplements  for  her ; 
that  she,  the  reigning  beauty,  and  I,  a  Bostonian,  could 
escape  publicity  was  too  much  to  hope.  She  shrank 
from  the  local  scandal  but  I  knew  she  would  only 
escape  it  to  plunge  into  a  deeper.  She  felt  the  hand 
of  the  Constable  but  I  felt  the  clutch  of  the  inevit- 
able. 

Yet! 

I  looked  into  the  woods — the  dark  sweet-smelling 
woods  that  have  led  many  a  reckless  Paul  and  Vir- 
ginia onward  with  their  verdant  lure — the  scent  of  the 
leaves  was  hypnotic;  about  us  hung  the  mystic  ether 
of  the  shrubs  that  give  forth  their  odors  only  in  the 
night.  But  I  knew  that  nowhere  in  all  the  beautiful 
forest  ran  there  one  rill  from  which  could  be  gath- 
ered a  drop  for  the  cup  of  Lethe — that  drink  that 

152 


A  MOMENT  OF   TEMPTATION 

deadens  remorse — and  the  New  England  conscience 
Salem-ed ! 

I  led  Florentine  back ;  she  still  holding  on  to  me  and 
crying. 

"You  stay  here  with  Jephtha's  Daughter,"  I  said, 
speaking  as  gently  as  to  a  child.  "You  stay  here.  I'm 
going  to  help !" 

She  was  very  pale,  but  she  did  as  I  told  her;  she 
sank  upon  a  stone  which  I  brought  from  the  roadside. 

Once  I  went  back  to  her: 

"You  will  wait  for  me  until  I  am  free?" 

"Yes,  forever,"  she  said.  And  I  made  her  repeat 
it. 

It  was  a  selfish  promise  to  exact  from  a  girl  at  that 
time,  but  I  couldn't  help  it.  To  hear  her  say  that  she 
would  wait  gave  me  hope,  that  luxury  which  God  ex- 
tends to  his  most  helpless  child — and  I  was  far  from 
feeling  helpless  except  in  that  I  could  not  spare  her 
every  pang. 

I  vaulted  over  the  dead  horse  now  cut  free  from 
its  harness.  "Let  me  help,"  I  exclaimed,  glad  to  be 
free  from  the  self-stung  tension  of  a  temptation  in 
which  I  did  not  trust  my  own  strength. 

I  got  no  further  for  there  was  a  cry  from  the  fellow 
ahead.  He  had  stooped  and  looked  into  the  buggy. 
The  second  man  leaned  over  and  looked  on,  and  the 
third.  All  three  exclaimed. 

I  got  down  and  peered  in,  and,  like  the  others,  I 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

The  buggy  was  empty. 


153 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  AWAKENING 

INVOLUNTARILY  I  felt  for  the  whiskey  flask, 
for  it  had  been  my  last  recollection  as  I   fell 
forward  over  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast.     It  was 
in  my  hand  then,  I  remembered,  and  now!     It  was 
gone ! 

We  stood  there,  in  the  road,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other.  The  murdered  man  had  vanished,  there 
was  no  doubt  about  it,  and  only  the  poor  old  horse  lay 
there  as  mute  evidence  of  the  night's  work. 

"What's  become  of  him?"  asked  the  Constable, 
looking  at  me  as  though  I  was  directly  responsible. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  admitted. 

"I'll  bet  he  could  tell  if  he  wanted  to,"  muttered  Sir 
Charles,  getting  down  upon  his  knees  and  looking  in. 
The  novelty  of  his  position  distressed  him  for  he  got 
red  in  the  face. 

"The  buggy's  empty,  that's  certain,  and  if  this  high- 
wayman didn't  take  the  body  away,  then  some  of  your 
men  did.  That's  sure!" 

A  murmur  ran  among  the  men. 

"What's  the  matter?"  snarled  Sir  Charles. 

The  Constable  consulted  with  them  a  moment. 

"They  say  they  did  not  steal  the  body  and  they 
think  it  is  not  right  for  you  to  insinuate  that  they 
did,"  said  the  Constable,  with  unwonted  boldness  for 
a  timid  man. 

154 


THE   AWAKENING 


A  sound  of  approval  went  through  the  crowd. 

"What's  that?"  snapped  Sir  Charles.  "Say  it  over 
again.  They  dare  to  say  that  they  think  it  is  not  right 
for  me — me — they  dare  to  criticise  me!" 

He  paused  with  uplifted  stump,  shaking  it  right  in 
the  Constable's  face. 

"What  in " 

A  sound  nearby  made  us  all  stop  and  listen;  even 
Sir  Charles  paused  in  his  wrath  as  he  heard  it.  It  was 
an  unearthly  noise,  one  that  sent  the  chills  running 
through  us,  an  echo  that  seemed  to  come  out  of  the 
stillness  and  blackness  of  the  night. 

It  was  a  groan ! 

We  stood  still,  every  man  of  us  holding  his  breath 
and  listening.  I  ran  to  Florentine's  side. 

The  groan  was  repeated. 

We  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  each  man 
holding  on  to  his  neighbor  for  fear. 

"It's  a  ghost,"  whispered  one  of  the  men,  "the  ghost 
of  the  poor  old  man." 

A  few  feeble  words  reached  us,  a  sort  of  mutter- 
ing. 

We  moved  involuntarily  in  the  direction  of  the 
noise,  for  it  led  us  straight  to  the  deep  gutter  that 
was  dug  at  one  side  of  the  road.  In  the  furrow, 
which  was  wide,  there  lay  a  great  fallen  log.  And 
across  the  log  was  stretched  a  gaunt  figure. 

"A  ghost!"  gasped  one  of  the  men. 

"Silence,"  ordered  the  Constable,  but  his  hand 
trembled  so  that  the  lantern  shook. 

There  were  other  faint  sounds  as  we  peered  into 
the  darkness. 

155 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"It's  Mr.  Pancoast !"  cried  Florentine. 

We  stood  staring  at  him  speechless  with  amaze. 
Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  that  it  was  he,  and,  while 
we  looked,  he  turned  and  moved  his  lips. 

A  very  faint  "Hello"  came  forth ;  his  voice,  though 
feeble,  was  certainly  not  the  voice  of  the  orthodox 
ghost,  hollow  and  resounding. 

We  stood  still,  dumb  with  surprise.  Florentine  was 
the  first  to  find  her  voice.  And  I  verily  believe  that 
the  dear  girl  grasped  the  situation  before  I  did ;  it 
was  Mr.  Pancoast  and  he  was  alive.  Yet — it  might 
be — the  ghost  of  the  Rev.  Jedediah,  and  not  he  in 
the  flesh. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Pancoast!"  exclaimed  Florentine,  "Mr. 
Pancoast." 

She  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  road  and  was  for 
climbing  down  into  the  gutter  but  I  was  there  before 
her.  I  jumped  down  among  the  fallen  leaves  and 
touched  the  old  man  lying  there  upon  the  great  crum- 
bled log.  As  I  stooped,  I  got  a  whiff  of  something 
which  told  me  that  the  Rev.  Jedediah  had  taken  mea- 
sures for  the  preservation  of  his  life.  He  had  grasped 
the  rudiments  of  the  first  law  of  nature,  for  beside 
him  lay  the  flask,  its  top  gone. 

"Mr.  Pancoast,"  I  asked,  taking  hold  of  his  shoul- 
der, "are — are  your  hurt?"  He  winced,  but  the  odor 
was  heavy  and  a  smile  appeared.  It  occurred  to  me 
that  it  was  an  utterly  inane  question,  but  I  could 
think  of  no  proper  words  at  that  moment.  But,  as  it 
proved,  it  was  quite  the  most  agreeable  thing  I  could 
have  uttered. 

156 


THE   AWAKENING 


"Hurt,  no,  why  should  I  be  hurt?"  he  muttered. 
"Where's  the  medicine  bottle?" 

He  groaned  and  it  was  evident  that  he  was  none 
the  better  for  his  adventure — but  he  was  alive.  And 
this  was  more  than  could  be  said  of  Jephtha's  Daugh- 
ter, for  the  shot  that  had  missed  the  old  man,  had 
taken  the  old  mare. 

"Here,  lend  a  hand,"  I  shouted,  "we  must  get  him 
out  of  here." 

The  log  was  wet  and  the  leaves  were  damp  and 
sticky  and  Mr.  Pancoast,  besides  having  passed 
through  a  strenuous  night,  was  over  seventy.  We 
must  not  leave  him  here  for  one  unnecessary  moment. 
"You  look  all  right,  but  how  do  you  feel?"  I  queried, 
taking  hold  of  his  shoulders  and  trying  to  lift  him. 

By  this  time  a  half  dozen  of  the  Constable's  men 
had  joined  me  in  the  ditch  and  the  servants  of  the 
Castle — now  that  they  had  become  convinced  that 
they  were  not  seeing  a  ghost — had  gathered  around. 

Willing  hands  assisted  him  to  his  feet;  he  seemed 
unbroken  as  to  bones,  but  his  morals  had  suffered  a 
fracture;  he  wanted  a  drink. 

A  flask  was  quickly  produced. 

"Don't  give  him  any  more,  he  isn't  accustomed  to 
it,"  I  objected.  But  it  was  too  late,  for  he  had  seen 
the  flask  and  had  grasped  it  with  eager  fingers  that 
carried  it  to  his  lips  and  held  it  there  rather  longer 
than  politeness  would  have  allowed. 

"Best  drink  I  ever  had  in  my  life,"  he  uttered, 
thickly.  "Only  drink  I've  had  since  I  left  the  Uni- 
versity. Heh!  Tastes  good  when  a  man's  cold — hie 
— and  wet!" 

157 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

His  voice  was  so  low  that  no  one  heard  it  but 
myself,  so  that  the  clerical  cloth  suffered  no  stain. 
Whatever  the  men  may  have  suspected  they  said 
nothing. 

"How  did  you  get  here?"  I  asked,  taking  him  by 
the  shoulder,  as  soon  as  we  had  carried  him  up  to  the 
road,  for  I  wanted  to  be  sure  he  was  perfectly 
alive. 

"Rolled  down  bank.  Jephtha's  Daughter  went 
asleep.  Shabby  trick.  Someone  tried  shoot  us  both. 
I  got  out,  tried  to  get  back  in ;  buggy  turned  over, 
hit  me  on  head.  Hie — shabby  trick!'' 

"Then  what  happened?"  I  questioned,  shaking  him, 
for  he  had  closed  his  eyes  and  seemed  lapsing  off  into 
sleep  and  I  needed  his  evidence  in  unraveling  the 
tangle  of  the  night. 

"Don't  know.  Poured  whiskey  in  my  face,  and 
left  old  man  to  die  in  road  with  dead  horse !  But  it's 
all  right — everything's  all  right." 

"Never  mind,"  I  said  soothingly.  "Can  you  stand 
now  so  that  we  can  take  you  back  to  the  Castle  ?" 

"I'd  try — if  I  had  another  drink;  it  savdti  my  life." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it,  but  I  told  him  that  he 
didn't  need  a  life  preserver  again,  so  soon. 

"Here,  boys,"  I  ordered,  "take  hold  of  that  shoulder 
and  steady  him.  Somebody  give  us  a  hand;  he's  a 
dead  weight." 

I  was  sorry  that  he  could  not  tell  me  more,  but  the 
night's  doings  had  been  lost  in  the  oblivion  of  the 
flask. 

We  lifted  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast,  but  his  legs 
folded  under  him  like  the  blades  of  a  jackknife. 

158 


THE   AWAKENING 


"Little  weak  in  my  legs,"  he  suggested  amiably.  "If 
you'll  let  me  stay  here — till  mornin' — I'll " 

"Catch  hold  of  him,  boys,  and  lift  altogether.  He's 
got  to  be  carried  back  bodily.  He'll  catch  his  death 
of  cold." 

We  lifted  the  old  man  and  he  stood  for  a  second; 
then  his  legs  again  crumpled  under  him  and  he  sank 
down  with  a  peaceful  smile  on  his  face. 

"I  guess  he's  injured  in  his  legs,  sir,"  said  the 
Constable. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  I  said,  "only  a  little  bruised. 
But  we'll  have  to  carry  him  just  the  same." 

"All  right;  give  a  lift  all  round,  boys,"  shouted  the 
Constable,  and  the  men  closed  in  around  the  Rev. 
Jedediah,  and  carried  him  up  the  bank  to  the  road,  he 
offering  amiable  suggestions  but  making  no  attempt  to 
walk.  Once  he  was  put  on  his  feet,  but  a  few  wob- 
bling steps  convinced  him  it  would  be  much  more  jo- 
vial to  be  carried.  So,  with  an  arm  around  the  neck 
of  two  stalwart  woodsmen,  and,  with  two  more  carry- 
ing his  feet,  he  closed  his  eyes  and  gave  up  to  the 
coolie  method  of  transportation. 

"Biggest  time  of  my  life,"  he  confided  to  me  and  I 
believed  him. 

It  was  not  until  we  had  started  up  the  hill  again 
toward  the  Castle  that  my  mind  came  back  to  the 
business  in  hand.  The  little  procession  was  moving 
along  ahead  and  the  Constable  and  I  were  bringing 
up  the  rear. 

"Where  is  Sir  Charles?"  I  asked,  looking  around, 
for  he  had  disappeared  in  the  excitement. 

159 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"He  must  have  gone  on  ahead,"  suggested  the  Con- 
stable. 

I  looked  but  did  not  see  him.  And  then  an  awful 
thought  occurred  to  me.  I  stared  ahead  and  behind 
and  I  peered  along  each  side  of  the  road. 

"Where  is  the  Honorable  Miss  Hadley?" 

"She  was  here  a  minute  ago,"  he  replied,  lifting  his 
lantern,  "perhaps  she  is  with  Sir  Charles." 

The  same  thought  had  come  to  me  but  it  gave  me 
little  comfort. 

"I  would  like  to  go  on,"  I  said  quickly,  "and  pre- 
pare them  at  the  Castle  for  our  coming." 

Really  this  was  only  an  excuse,  and  a  rather  trans- 
parent one,  to  go  and  search  for  Florentine. 

The  Constable  looked  doubtful.  "You  are  still  my 
prisoner,  and  I  don't  suppose  I  can  let  you  go." 

"But  the  man  is  alive,"  I  exclaimed.  "Surely  you 
cannot  hold  me  for  killing  a  man  who  is  alive  and 
walking  in  front  of  us." 

There  was  a  bit  of  hyperbole  in  this  statement  for 
the  manner  in  which  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast  was  go- 
ing up  the  hill  could  scarcely  be  called  walking.  With 
his  arms  around  the  shoulders  of  the  two  sturdy  men 
and  his  feet  propelled  by  another  two,  he  was  making 
the  slow  and  laborious  ascent.  Now  and  then  the 
procession  would  halt  while  the  men  got  fresh  wind. 

"And  he  seems  comfortable  and  happy,"  I  ob- 
served. 

"He's  loaded,"  said  the  Constable.  "Not  being 
used  to  it,  it's  gone  right  to  his  head;  lucky,  though, 
he  found  that  whiskey  or  he  might  have  been  dead 
by  now." 

160 


THE   AWAKENING 


"But  surely  I  am  not  to  blame  for  that,  nor  for  the 
fact  that  some  miscreant  of  the  woods  shot  his  old 
horse." 

I  argued  seriously,  but  I  had  my  doubts  as  to  the 
shot  being  fired  by  a  simple  miscreant  of  the  woods, 
but  I  wanted  to  get  free ;  and  there  was  no  doubt  that 
the  Constable  was  being  impressed  by  my  argument. 

"He's  as  well  as  he  ever  was,"  I  declared.  "Listen !" 

"If  you  have  a  pleasant  thought — 
Sing  it !    Sing  it !" 

floated  back  in  wavering  strains. 

"Do  you  hear  that?"  I  added  by  way  of  emphasis. 
"The  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast  is  not  dead." 

The  Constable  agreed  with  me. 

"Then  why  not  let  me  go?" 

He  hesitated  and  shook  his  head. 


161 


CHAPTER  XVII 

FLORENTINE    IS    MISSING 

UNDER  ordinary  circumstances  I  would  have 
tipped  him  over  and,  defying  consequences, 
I  would  have  quickly  followed  the  path 
taken  by  Florentine,  as  nearly  as  I  could  trace  it.  But, 
for  the  third  time  that  evening,  prudence  prevailed 
and  I  followed  slowly.  If  only  I  had  known  the  di- 
rection Florentine  had  taken,  I  would  have  been  more 
comfortable.  Had  she  been  forcibly  carried  away  by 
Sir  Charles?  but — no,  that  was  impossible  for,  at  a 
cry,  a  sound,  I  would  have  been  at  her  side.  Had  she, 
almost  as  disturbing  a  thought,  been  frightened  into 
leaving  us  and  had  she  started,  past  midnight,  on 
that  long  dreary  walk  back  to  London?  Either  sup- 
position was  distressing. 

But  I  was  destined  not  to  be  kept  long  in  doubt  as 
to  her  direction  at  least.  Scarcely  had  we  gone  ten 
feet  when  I  saw  ahead  of  me  in  the  road  a  filmy 
grey  veil;  I  stooped  and  picked  it  up  tenderly,  for  I 
recognized  it  as  one  which  Florentine  had  worn  only 
a  few  minutes  before  and  which,  I  knew  afterward, 
the  dear  girl  had  dropped  as  a  signal. 

So  she  had  gone  back  to  the  Castle !  But  why  and 
with  whom?  and  had  Sir  Charles  prevailed  upon  her 
to  go  with  him?  I  stepped  along,  by  the  side  of  the 
Constable,  deliberating  these  things;  that  it  was  not 

162 


FLORENTINE  IS  MISSING 


the  lure  of  the  diamond  that  had  called  her  I  felt 
sure.  But  the  situation  was  depressing  to  me,  view 
it  how  I  would;  for  the  thought  of  Florentine  in  the 
company  of  Sir  Charles  filled  me  with  a  presentiment 
of  coming  evil,  as  certain  as  it  was  disagreeable.  And, 
as  I  pondered,  we  plodded  ahead,  a  strange  procession 
winding  over  the  rough  road  under  the  stars  of  the 
early  morning.  To  say  that  violence  filled  my  soul 
is  to  put  it  mildly ;  I  was  wild  with  suppressed  desire, 
with  the  wish  to  go  to  Florentine  and  find  out  what, 
if  anything,  had  befallen  her;  I  must,  I  would  go  to 
her! 

A  touch  upon  the  arm  roused  me  from  this  impo- 
tent revery ;  I  looked  around ;  it  was  Sir  Henry,  whom, 
until  now,  I  had  utterly  forgotten;  yet  there  he  was, 
looking  smaller,  meeker  and  more  utterly  apologetic 
than  ever. 

"Hello !"  I  exclaimed  for  lack  of  anything  more  in- 
teresting to  say. 

'"Hello!"  he  responded  delightedly,  "I — I  see  you 
are  going  back  to  the  Castle." 

"Your  eyesight  is  good,"  I  muttered,  for  he  dis- 
turbed my  thought  current. 

"And  I  thought,  maybe,  you'd  have  time,  if  it  isn't 
too  late — or  too  early — don't  you  know,  to  look  at 
the  painting.  I'd  like  to  have  you  see  the  bathtub, 
it's  very  realistic,  most  realistic." 

"Where  is  it?"  I  asked,  for  my  enthusiasm  as  an 
art  critic  varies  according  to  circumstance. 

"It's  upstairs,  in  the  big  east  wing,  the  wing  beyond 
Florentine's  room;  it's  as  big  as  a  barn  and  empty, 

all  except  my  pictures " 

163 


THE  STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

"In  the  wing  where  Florentine's  room  is?"  I  asked. 

"Yes!  You  go  upstairs,  past  Sir  Charles'  room; 
turn  to  the  left,  go  down  a  long  corridor,  turn  to  the 
right  near  Florentine's  room  and  you're  in  the  east 
wing;  and  the  picture " 

"I'll  go  with  you  to  see  it  to-night,"  I  said  eagerly. 
"I'd  love  to  see  it  by — by  candlelight." 

"It's  really  better  so,"  he  replied  in  a  confidential 
whisper,  "because  it  isn't  finished  yet  and  I  haven't 
put  the  robe  on  the  lady — don't  you  see — I'm  think- 
ing of  draping  her  in  a  toga,  maybe  a  Roman  toga, 
maybe  a  bath  towel — I  don't  know — but  at  present  it's 
better,  vastly  better,  to  see  the  sketch  by  candlelight 
— don't  you  know !  King  David  is  on  the  roof  in  the 
distance  with  his  field  glass  in  his  hand." 

"Will  Miss  Hadley  be  in  her  room  by  the  time 
we  get  back  to  the  Castle — and  if  she  is  there  would 
we  know  it — that  is,  shall  we  see  her  again  to-night?" 
I  asked  irrelevantly,  for  I  was  determined  to  see 
Florentine  or,  at  any  rate,  to  know  what  had  become 
of  her  before  I  slept,  if,  indeed,  I  had  any  plans  for 
sleeping  that  night. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Sir  Henry.  "I  saw  her 
hurry  away  and  I  rather  fancied  she  had  something 
urgent  on  her  mind." 

"Did  she  go  alone?"  I  asked  eagerly,  but  without 
much  hope  of  getting  a  lucid  reply,  for  I  had  an  idea 
that  the  eyes  of  Sir  Henry  were  blind  to  aught  except 
his  painting.  But  here,  it  seems,  I  was  mistaken  in 
my  estimate  of  Sir  Henry. 

"No,  she  did  not  go  alone,"  he  answered,  glancing 
around  and  whispering,  "Pearl  was  with  her." 

164 


FLORENTINE  IS  MISSING 


"Who  is  Pearl?" 

"Pearl  is  the  Sepoy  girl — the  girl  Lady  Hope  and  I 
adopted  years  ago;  you  know — er — you  must  have 
heard  the  story — er — all  London  knows  it." 

I  thought  Sir  Henry  winced  a  little  but  he  had 
probably  grown  hardened  to  it,  for  he  went  on: 

"Pearl  followed  us  to-night;  she  goes  where  Sir 
Charles  goes — >if  he  will  let  her — and,  when  it  was 
all  over,  and  we  had  revived  Mr.  Pancoast,  I  saw  her 
hurrying  in  the  direction  of  the  Castle  with  Floren- 
tine." 

"How  long  ago  was  it?" 

"Just  a  few  minutes  ago,  or  a  little  more;  I  should 
think  it  has  taken  us  about  that  length  of  time  to  get 
Mr.  Pancoast  started,"  was  the  lucid  calculation. 

So  Florentine  had  gone  back  to  the  Castle  with 
the  Sepoy  girl  some  time  before.  Well,  it  was  a  relief 
to  know  where  she  was  even  while  it  was  a  mystery. 
But,  though  I  could  not  understand  why  she  had  gone 
with  Pearl,  I  was  glad  Sir  Charles  was  not  her  com- 
panion. After  a  short  silence  I  thought  I  could  ven- 
ture to  ask  about  him. 

"Where  did  Sir  Charles  go?" 

"He  disappeared  just  a  minute  ago.  I  believe  he, 
too,  went  into  the  direction  of  the  Castle ;  anyway  he 
was  with  us,  and  when  I  turned  around  he  was  gone. 
He  hasn't  much  use  for  pictures,"  added  Sir  Henry 
with  a  sigh,  "nor  for  any  of  us,  except  Florentine." 

"I  should  think  it  would  be  a  matter  of  congratula- 
tion for  you  even  as  it  is  a  thing  of  regret  for  her." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Sir  Henry  doubtfully.  "He  is 
a  very  rich  man,  comes  and  goes  as  he  pleases,  keeps 

165 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE    WALL 

his  town  house  open  all  the  time  in  London;  has  his 
saddle  horse  here;  never  knows  where  he  is  going  to 
be;  owns  immense  mining  stock;  has  all  London  in 
his  clutches  I  sometimes  think.  As  for  us,  he  owns 
us,  body  and  soul,  and  that  is  his  pull — on — on  Flor- 
entine." 

That  Sir  Henry  did  not  intend  to  reveal  as  much 
of  the  financial  skeleton-in-the-closet  as  this  was  evi- 
dent, for  he  stopped  abruptly. 

"I  am  glad  she  has  your  sympathy,"  I  said  warmly. 

Sir  Henry  looked  over  his  shoulder  again  and  I 
thought  he  trembled  a  little,  so  that  I  was  led  to  be- 
lieve that,  in  spite  of  the  money  and  gold  mines,  he 
was  not  enamoured  of  Sir  Charles.  His  next  remark 
explained  his  attitude. 

"He  is  in  love  with  Florentine  and  declares  that  he 
will  have  her  at  any  cost.  She,  dear  girl,  hates,  loathes, 
despises  him  and  we  sympathize  with  her,  but  what 
can  she  do,  poor  lamb !  She  must  get  married  to  save 
her  fortune  and  Sir  Charles  swears  he  is  going  to  get 
her  by  fair  means  or  foul." 

"But  assuredly,"  I  said,  appealing  to  the  sense  of 
manliness  which  I  could  see  was  hidden  underneath 
Uncle  Henry's  velvet  jacket,  "you  will  not  allow  this 
girl  to  sacrifice  herself  in  this  way  for  her  family. 
Why,  all  London  would  be  up  in  arms  if  it  were 
known;  for  with  her  youth  and  beauty  she  could 
make  a  match  any  day." 

Uncle  Henry  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sighed. 
"It  is  a  pity,"  he  admitted,  "but  there  is  family  money 
at  stake,  a  family  fortune;  and  where  there's  money, 
all  London,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  world,  is  deaf, 

166 


FLORENTINE  IS  MISSING 


dumb  and  blind.  Until  you  came  last  evening  and 
made  your  speech  asking  for  Florentine's  hand  we 
feared  that  it  would  be  Sir  Charles  or  nobody." 

"Well,  I  am  still  in  the  field." 

"Oh,  Florentine  has  explained  to  us  how  you  are 
descended  from  William  the  Conqueror,  and — and — 
King  Arthur  and — and  others,  and  there  seemed  no 
reason  why  it  should  not  be  a  perfect  match,  espe- 
cially as  she  loved  you  so  at  first  sight  and  had  been 
loving  you  madly  since  she  first  saw  you  ten  days 
ago.  And  she  told  us  how — how — pardon  my  vulgar- 
ity— how  rich  you  were — and  all  that!" 

Delightful,  considering  that  she  knew  me  only  as  a 
penniless  pup  of  a  detective. 

"And  she  told  us — her  Aunt  Hope  and  me — how 
much. you  enjoyed  pictures — that  you  were  never 
tired  of  studying  them.  And  she  explained  to  Charity 
your  love  for  Bibles,  particularly  the  Oxford,  so  that 
when  you  came,  we  were  all  quite  ready  to  receive 
you  with  open  arms.  And  then — this  awful  thing  oc- 
curred." 

I  could  see  that  Florentine  had  not  been  backward 
in  taking  strategetic  measures. 

"But  you  surely  do  not  think  I  had  any  hand  in  it, 
in  the  attempted  assassination  of  the  clergyman  who 
was  coming  to  marry  us." 

"No-o!  Of  course  not.  But  Sir  Charles  has  his 
suspicions  aroused ;  he  knows  now  that  you  were  com- 
ing here  to  the  Castle  to  marry  Florentine  and,"  with 
a  whisper  that  positively  trembled  with  fear,  "when 
he  is  crossed — when  he  is  crossed,  well,  you  must  be 
careful  of  him !" 

167 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"I  will  be  careful  of  him  all  right/'  I  answered. 

"Then — the  further  revelation — the  thing  Sir 
Charles  told  us  to-day;  if  Florentine  marries  him  it 
will  be  buried  forever,  for  he  has  kept  the  secret  well. 
But  if  not " 

"If  not?" 

"He  will  spread  it  to  the  winds  of  London." 

"And  the  secret,  this  dark  thing  at  which  you  hint  so 
broadly  ?" 

"It  is  such  that  none  of  our  family  would  dare  set 
foot  in  the  social  world  of  London  for  many  a  year 
to  come." 

"I  think  you  exaggerate,  for  no  family  but  has  its 
flaw,  but  I  want  to  tell  you  now  that  I  intend  to  marry 
Florentine.  And,"  I  added,  shaking  my  finger  at  him 
impressively,  "I  shall  marry  her  to-day — to-day,  do 
you  understand? — to-day,  just  as  we  planned,  unless 
they  kill  her  or  me !" 

I  spoke  with  some  braggadocio  and  certainly  with 
more  confidence  than  I  felt,  for  here  was  I,  technically 
at  least,  in  the  hands  of  the  Constable  while  Floren- 
tine had  disappeared,  two  almost  unsurmountable  ob- 
stacles. 

Could  anything  have  happened  to — her? 

But  there  was  no  time  for  more  thought  for  we  had 
arrived  at  the  Castle  steps.  Slowly  the  procession 
passed  up,  the  Constable  and  I  coming  last;  and 
through  the  wide  door  they  went  until  finally  all  had 
gone  in  except  the  officer  of  the  law,  whose  men  had 
rejoined  him  after  depositing  Mr.  Pancoast  inside, 
and  me !  To  my  amazement  I  saw  that  they  intended 
to  shut  me  outside  with  the  Constable. 

168 


FLORENTINE  IS  MISSING 


The  door  closed  in  our  faces,  leaving  me  staring  at 
the  outer  panels;  even  Sir  Henry,  awed  by  the  near 
proximity  of  Sir  Charles,  had  forgotten  me. 

The  Constable  and  I  were  upon  the  Castle  steps. 

"Now,"  said  I,  turning  to  him,  "I  am  discharged, 
honorably  discharged,  or  you  can  let  me  go  on 
my  parole.  And  if  you  want  me  again  you  can  get 
me  in  the  morning  at  my  apartment." 

"All  right,  sir,  I  suppose  it  is  all  right." 

"Of  course  it  is  all  right !" 

Taking  out  a  card  I  wrote  upon  it  the  name  of  one 
of  the  most  impressive  apartment  hotels  in  London, 
for  Lady  Kensington,  to  keep  me  in  London  long 
enough  to  attend  to  her  manifold  affairs,  insisted  that 
I  take  a  furnished  flat.  I  had  rebelled  a  little  at  the 
time,  but  my  father  had  been  Lady  Kensington's 
lawyer,  when  she,  herself,  left  Boston,  the  wife  of  a 
titled  Englishman,  a  fact  which  gave  her  a  proprie- 
tary right  over  me;  so  she  had  taken  the  apartment 
before  my  arrival  and  insisted  that  my  baggage  and 
my  Japanese  valet  be  personally  conducted  there  at 
once.  It  had  seemed  a  bit  of  extravagance  at  the 
time,  but  now  I  was  devoutly  glad  to  own  it.  The 
Constable  studied  the  card,  and  was  suitably  im- 
pressed by  the  address. 

"Very  well,  sir!     Good-night,  sir!" 

"Good-night,  and  better  luck  to  you  with  the  next 
murderer,"  I  called  out  as  I  stood  on  the  steps  and 
watched  him  disappear  down  the  narrow  back  road 
where  his  men  were  waiting  for  him.  He  had  evi- 
dently, in  the  absence  of  Sir  Charles,  declined  to  con- 
sider that  I  had  committed  an  assault  upon  that  gen- 

169 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

tleman ;  for  an  instant  I  was  tempted  to  order  him  to 
arrest  Sir  Charles  for  pointing  a  loaded  weapon  at  me 
but  the  hour  and  Florentine  made  me  desist. 


170 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    HIGHWAYWOMAN 

1  TURN  ED  to  the  Castle;  for  a  second  I  stared 
in  amazement;  it  had  disappeared;  gradually 
its  shadowy  form  loomed  up  in  front  of  me; 
but  it  was  in  darkness  from  top  to  bottom,  for  the 
lights  had  suddenly  gone  out  and  there  was  not  a 
glimmer  anywhere.  I  put  out  my  hand  and  grasped 
the  great  brass  door  knocker.  Surely,  Sir  Henry 
at  least  would  be  awake  even  though  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Pancoast  might  be  sleeping  the  sleep  that  comes  of 
too  deep  a  draught  of  weariness  and  joy.  That  he  had 
received  the  blow  intended  for  someone  else  was  not 
his  fault. 

As  I  lifted  the  knocker,  a  square  in  the  panel  of 
the  great  oak  door  in  front  of  me  moved.  I  watched 
it  with  fascinated  eyes  as  it  swung  creakingly  inward. 
In  the  square  opening,  with  his  face  set  in  the  frame- 
work, I  could  see  the  features  of  Sir  Charles. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  demanded,  looking  at  me 
blankly,  as  though  he  had  never  laid  eyes  upon  me  be- 
fore. 

"I  want  admittance  for  one  thing,"  I  said,  "and 
then  there  are  a  few  other  things  I  may  want — later. 
At  present  I'll  thank  you  to  open  the  door." 

He  laughed  a  nasty  laugh.  "I  suppose  you'd  like 
171 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

to  know  where  Florentine  is.  I'd  bet  a  penny  you'd 
give  something  to  find  her." 

"And  I  expect  to  find  her,"  I  retorted,  squaring 
off  a  little  and  getting  ready  to  fight  through  the  eight- 
inch  oak  panel.  "I  notice,"  I  added,  for  his  face 
fired  me  again,  "that  she  was  not  greatly  tempted  by 
your  precious  stone  in  which  you  must  have  invested 
so  much." 

Sir  Charles  flushed  indigo ;  I  feared  apoplexy. 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  his  hateful  rasping  laugh, 
"she's  off  for  London,  left  here  half  an  hour  ago  on 
the  fastest  horse  in  the  stables;  took  the  short  road 
so  as  to  get  there  quickest.  By  the  way,"  and  he 
leaned  further  out,  "I  suppose  you  know  her  history 
— about  her  mother's  family." 

"No !"  I  exclaimed.  Much  as  I  hated  him  I  thought 
it  well  to  learn  this  mysterious  secret  now,  once  and 
for  all.  I  could  deal  with  it  more  intelligently  if  I 
knew  it  than  though  I  continued  to  work  in  the  dark. 

"Oh,  you're  ready  to  listen  now,"  he  sneered.  "Well, 
I'll  tell  you !  The  mother  of  your  proud  and  Honor- 
able Florentine  is  not  dead;  she  is  alive." 

I  started  and  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  began  to 
dawn. 

"She's  alive,  but  she's  one  of  those  'that  might  better 
be  dea.d.  No !  she  doesn't  live  here  nor  in  England. 
We  pay  her  to  live  away.  Her  home — the  place  she 
calls  home,  the  only  home  such  women  know — is  a 
mining  camp.  She  lives  the  life  of  the  worst  and  most 
degraded  women  of  the  camp." 

"Does  Florentine  know  this?" 

"Yes.  Her  Aunt  Faith  told  her  to-night,  and  she 
172 


THE   HIGHWAYWOMAN 


told  the  other  sisters.  They'd  give  their  last  penny  to 
keep  it  from  getting  into  the  prints,  you  can  wager 
your  bottom  dollar,  Mr.  Roman  Elliott." 

Sir  Charles  leered  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  would  hold  this 
over  the  poor  girl  and  force  her  to  marry  you  by 
threatening  exposure?"  I  demanded.  "If  you  would, 
you're  a  blacker  demon  than  I  supposed,  and  God 
knows  that  was  dark  enough." 

"I'm  going  to  marry  the  girl  by  fair  means  or  foul," 
he  declared,  waving  the  mutilated  stump  out  of  the 
open  panel.  "And  it's  my  opinion,  if  the  mother's 
bad,  the  girl  isn't  much  better.  So  I'm  not  getting 
such  a  bargain  for  my  money,  after  all.  But  her 
looks  will  carry  her  a  few  years  until  she  fades.  Now, 
you  blanked  Sir  Knight,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?" 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you,  you  lie,  for  one  thing,"  I 
exclaimed,  moving  up  nearer  to  the  small  open  panel. 
"And  I'll  leave  you  as  a  souvenir " 

"You're  wasting  your  time  and  strength,"  he 
laughed.  "You'd  better  go  back  to  London." 

And  before  I  could  strike  out  or  reply,  the  little 
oak  panel  banged  shut,  leaving  me  out  in  the  night. 

I  was  shut  out,  but  not  vanquished.  A  great  rage 
consumed  me.  I  beat  upon  the  doors;  I  shouted;  I 
battered  my  fists  and  brought  down  maledictions;  I 
threatened  murder ;  the  only  sound  was  a  laugh  from 
within. 

Utterly  exhausted,  I  turned  away. 

At  that  moment  a  clock  in  the  Castle  struck.  I 
tried  to  count  the  number  but  its  rattling  sound  was 

173 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

succeeded  by  that  of  another  and  I  could  not  tell  the 
time. 

I  turned  and  looked  about  me.  Dense  woods  sur- 
rounded the  Castle  and  blackness  lay  everywhere, 
blackness  except  where  the  road  led  ahead,  like  a 
stream  of  light  let  down  from  a  flickering  star.  Should 
I  take  the  road  and  go  back  to  London,  and  had  Flor- 
entine really  gone  that  way — and  where  would  she 
remain  at  this  hour  of  the  night? — or  should  I  stay 
here  until  morning  and  intercede  with  the  Graces  and 
Uncle  Henry  in  our  behalf !  I  could  almost  imagine 
that  the  Aunts  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity  were  thinking 
about  me  at  this  minute. 

And  the  story  of  Florentine's  mother !  No  wonder 
the  dear  old  ladies  dreaded  exposure. 

And  Florentine,  dearest  girl,  to  win  them  over  she 
had  hinted  that  I  was  related  to  William  the  Con- 
queror. 

I  remembered  how,  once,  I  had  wanted  to  play 
English  Kings  with  my  Cousin  Irene — and  how  we 
couldn't  play  because  she  wouldn't  make  believe  she 
was  a  queen.  Irene  never  did  believe  in  make-believ- 
ing anything,  and,  besides,  she  preferred  a  foreign 
missionary  to  a  king  any  day ! 

While  I  stood  hesitating,  a  sudden  and  subtle  thought 
came  to  my  mind,  doubtless  such  a  thought  as  had 
occurred  to  my  distinguished  ancestor  when  he  won 
that  bride  of  his  with  a  daring  now  famed  in  history. 
I  would  try  to  do  by  strategy  that  which  I  could  not 
do  by  open  dealing. 

I  wanted  to  go  back  and  murder  Sir  Charles  in  his 
bed,  shouting  to  all  the  world  to  witness  my  deed, 

174 


THE    HIGHWAYWOMAN 


and  here  I  was  compelled  to  play  a  puppet's  part,  to 
act  as  though  I  had  been  vanquished. 

Swinging  as  jauntily  down  the  steps  as  the  darkness 
would  permit,  I  started  briskly  along  the  path ;  I  knew 
that  I  was  being  watched  from  the  Castle  windows 
but  I  would  meet  cunning  with  craft.  Only  once  did 
I  stop  to  look  back  and  then  it  was  to  make  a. signal 
which  to  one  who  did  not  understand  it  might  have 
gone  unnoticed.  I  took  the  grey  veil,  Florentine's 
veil,  out  of  my  pocket  and  I  waved  it  over  my  head. 
If  Sir  Charles  saw  it,  he  might  have  taken  it  as  a 
flag  of  defiance ;  I  did  not  go  back  to  ask  him. 

Down  the  hill  I  went  and  around  the  dusky  turn, 
whistling  merrily.  But,  once  around  the  bend  and  out 
of  sight  of  the  house,  I  stopped,  for  it  occurred  to  me 
that  it  would  be  better  to  go  slowly  and  cautiously  and 
to  listen  as  I  walked,  for,  possibly,  if  Florentine  were 
being  detained  against  her  will,  she  might  send  out 
upon  the  night  air  some  sound,  some  signal  which 
would  call  me  back  to  her. 

My  object  was  to  make  Sir  Charles  think  I  had 
returned  to  London  while  at  the  same  time  to  let  Flor- 
entine know  that  I  was  nearby. 

At  the  thought  I  stopped  short,  and  then  I  perceived 
what  I  had  not  seen  before,  a  small  footpath  leading 
to  the  left  of  the  main  road.  I  peered  into  it;  for,  a 
little  beyond,  it  took  a  circular  turn  which  looked  as 
though  it  led  back  to  the  Castle  by  a  circuitous  route. 

I  turned  to  explore  it,  when,  suddenly,  as  though 
she  had  dropped  right  out  of  the  night,  there  stood 
before  me  in  the  road,  a  woman!  She  was  dressed 
in  an  automobile  coat  and  on  her  head  was  a  soft 

175 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

felt  hat  held  down  by  a  long  veil  which  was  knotted 
under  her  chin. 

At  first  I  thought  that  it  was  Florentine  and  then  I 
saw  at  once  that  it  was  not. 

I  stopped  short  and  stared  at  her;  if  she  had  come 
down  out  of  the  skies  in  my  plain  sight,  I  could  not 
have  been  more  amazed.  She  cocked  her  head  and 
looked  at  me  as  confidently  as  though  I  had  been  an 
old  acquaintance. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  she  demanded.  "Come 
now  and  give  an  account  of  yourself !" 

I  lifted  my  hat  and  bowed  as  politely  as  the  situa- 
tion and  my  surprise  would  permit,  while  from  my 
lips  there  came  an  involuntary,  "Good  evening!'' 

"I  suppose  you  will  say  you  could  not  get  away  any 
sooner,"  she  went  on  impatiently.  "But  I  can  tell 
you  that's  it's  no  jolly  fun  waiting  here  three  hours 
by  the  side  of  the  road  for  a  gentleman ;  and  never  so 
much  as  a  signal  from  you  in  all  that  time.  If  you 
hadn't  floated  that  grey  veil  I'd  have  been  gone.  I 
was  just  starting  along  when  my  peepers  lit  on  it  as 
you  came  over  the  hill." 

She  stopped  and  her  teeth  chattered. 

I  know  now  how  Jove  felt  when  Minerva  stepped 
out  before  him,  fully  panoplied  and  ready  for  fight. 
He  was  afraid  of  her  and  he  wished  she  would  vanish 
into  the  region  whence  she  came.  Man  that  is  born 
of  woman  becomes  remarkably  critical ;  he  has  a  high 
opinion  of  the  one  who  flees  from  him  but  let  her 
turn  and  make  advances  and  he  grows  suspicious. 
This  woman  was  here  for  no  good. 

I  did  not  know  what  to  say;  there  was  an  embar- 
176 


THE   HIGHWAY  WOMAN 


rassing  lack  of  calling  cards  and  introductions  and  the 
road  was  bleak.  A  dark  lantern,  hung  at  her  belt, 
lit  it  a  little  way  ahead.  I  uttered  the  conventions. 

"It  was  unintentional — I  did  not  look  forward " 

It  was  weak  but  she  took  it  as  an  apology. 

Her  features  relaxed  a  little  and  in  the  vague  light 
I  could  dimly  see  that  she  was  of  the  voluptuous  type, 
commonly  known  as  "handsome."  Her  features  were 
regular,  though  rather  too  brilliantly  colored  for  con- 
ventionality, and  her  hair,  though  coppery,  was 
dressed  with  elaborate  care. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  I  caught  you,"  she  said  through 
her  chattering  teeth.  "I  was  beginning  to  think  you 
had  gone  down  the  other  way,  or  they  had  got  you, 
though  you  had  the  revolver  and  the  chloroform  and 
the  whiskey." 

She  stopped  and  waited  but  I  thought  silence  the 
best  reply.  Unfortunately  it  only  irritated  her  the 
more  for  she  broke  out  again: 

"I  can  tell  you,  after  this  night's  experience,  I  am 
ready  to  get  out  of  this  business ;  such  a  night  as  I've 
had,  with  people  going  over  this  road  and  carriages 
driving  up  and  back,  and  Lord  knows  what  not!" 

"It  has  certainly  been  a  rough  night,"  I  admitted, 
taking  out  my  handkerchief  and  holding  it  partially 
over  my  face  until  I  could  turn  sideways,  so  that  my 
features  were  more  in  the  shadow,  for  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  me  that  this  lady  might  be  worth  cultivat- 
ing. She  would  certainly  like  me  better  if  she  did 
not  search  out  my  features  with  that  red  lantern. 

"Rough!"  she  exclaimed,  getting  angry  again,  "I 
wouldn't  put  in  another  like  it  for  all  the  old  silver 

177 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

in  the  Castle,  and  Bud  says  there's  a  good  haul  of  it. 
He  thought  that  you,  being  a  new  one  in  this  part  of 
the  country,  could  get  at  it  better  than  he  could.  Bud 
can't  show  his  face  anywhere,  they  know  him  so  well. 
He's  done  almost  every  house  between  here  and  Lon- 
don except  the  Castle;  so  they've  been  laying  for 
him  for  two  years." 

She  spoke  with  the  pride  of  a  woman  who  is  the 
wife  of  an  expert  in  his  line. 

"Then  it  is  to  Bud  that  I  am  indebted  for  this  plea- 
sant interview." 

She  smiled  until  the  paint  cracked  on  her  hard  red 
cheeks. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  she  said  coquettishly.  "But  let's 
get  out  of  this  road." 

She  handily,  as  from  practice,  unhitched  the  dark 
lantern  from  her  belt  and  set  it  down  so  that  its  light 
fell  on  her  feet;  then,  stooping,  she  untied  her  shoe 
and  pulled  it  off  and  shook  it. 

"Bly  me !"  she  exclaimed  as  a  pebble  dropped  out. 

She  put  the  shoe  back  on  her  foot  and  held  it  up  to 
be  tied,  a  service  which  I  performed  as  nimbly  as  I 
could,  for  the  light  from  the  lantern  was  unfortu- 
nately close  to  my  face. 

"Drat  the  boots!"  she  observed  as  she  stamped  the 
shoe  on  the  ground  until  it  felt  comfortable.  "Bud 
wears  rubber  sneakers." 

"Where  is  Bud?"  I  asked. 

"He  lit  out  when  the  trouble  began  but  he'll  soon 
be  back.  Oh,  Bud  had  other  work  to-night,  work  that 
was  worth  while.  He  sent  me  ahead  and  told  me  to 
give  you  the  black  bag  with  the  kit  in  it  and  then  to 

178 


THE    HIGHWAYWOMAN 


wait  until  I  got  the  signal  from  you.  Then  I  was  to 
meet  you  and  tell  you  to  hide  in  the  side  of  the  road 
with  the  swag  until  he  could  come  out  with  the 
wagon." 

"So  I  must  thank  you  for  the  black  bag,  too,  must 
I?" 

"Yes,"  she  acknowledged  with  a  laugh,  partly  of 
pride  and  partly  of  apology.  "I  threw  it  in  the  car- 
riage and  I  guess  it  must  have  hit  your  foot,  but  I 
couldn't  wait  to  ask ;  the  coachman  nearly  caught  me 
as  it  was,  but  I  heard  you  yell." 

"It  was  certainly  most  unkind  of  you  to  try  to 
smash  my  foot." 

"My  eye,  but  you're  a  brick.  Bud  would  have  been 
mad  enough  to  kill  me.  But  it  was  this  way.  Bud 
told  me  to  watch  along  the  side  of  the  road  for  you 
and  to  give  you  the  bag.  Then  he  told  me  to  wait 
here  and  let  him  know  if  you  got  it  sure." 

"Well,  I  got  it  sure." 

"That's  what  I  told  him  and  I  said  you'd  gone  on 
and  that  the  road  was  clear.  And  then  there  came 
another  carriage  and  another  one.  My  word,  but  I 
never  saw  so  many  carriages,  and  Bud  was  afraid  to 
go  up  to  the  Castle !" 

"What  did  he  think  would  become  of  me  if  he  left 
me?"  I  asked,  putting  what  indignation  I  could  into 
my  voice. 

"Oh,  he  said  you'd  know  enough  to  lay  low  and 
let  the  stuff  go  until  some  other  night.  He  said  you'd 
had  enough  experience  to  know  when  to  get  drowsy 
and  when  to  work." 

"Very  flattering  of  Bud." 
179 


"My  word,  but  you're  a  dandy,"  she  repeated.  "And 
it  was  mean  of  Bud  to  leave  you  this  way.  But,  hon- 
est, he  just  couldn't  help  it,  though  he  did  want  your 
first  job  here  in  England  to  go  off  bully.  But  every- 
thing was  up  against  it  for  him." 

The  woman  stopped  and  looked  along  the  road.  "I 
thought  that  was  Bud,"  she  said.  "It  is  high  time  he 
was  getting  here." 

I,  too,  glanced  down  the  road  and  was  devoutly 
thankful  that  Bud  had  not  got  along. 

"Well,  after  you  went  on  in  the  carriage  with  the 
black  bag  I  hid  here  to  tell  Bud  it  was  right  as  nine- 
pence;  and  then  the  carriages  began  to  come,  one 
after  another !  My  eye,  but  they  must  have  had  a  re- 
ception at  the  Castle  to-night!" 

I  thought  of  Aunt  Faith  and  the  old  family  lawyer 
and  Sir  Charles. 

"It  certainly  looked  that  way,"  I  answered. 

"And  when  Bud  came,  and  I  told  him,  he  said  it 
was  all  off,  and  that  he  couldn't  take  the  silver  tan- 
kards when  the  company  was  drinking  out  of  them. 
So  we  thought  we'd  better  both  go  back  home  and  Bud 
said  you'd  know  enough  to  follow." 

"I  was  following!" 

Again  she  smiled  approval  as  she  resumed.  "Since 
there  was  nothing  at  the  Castle,  Bud  wanted  to  get 
back,  but  how  was  he  to  get  a  cab?  And  while  we 
stood  here  at  the  side  of  the  road,  like  two  mummies, 
along  came  a  buggy.  Bud  thought  he  could  fire  a 
shot  in  the  air  and  scare  whoever  was  inside  the 
wagon.  Then  he  would  point  the  pistol  at  him  and 

180 


THE    HIGHWAYWOMAN 


make  him  get  out  and  walk  and  Bud  would  take  the 
buggy;  it's  one  of  his  best  tricks." 

"It's  as  old  as  the  hills,"  I  scoffed. 

"But  the  old  goat  was  going  so  slow  you  could 
hardly  see  the  wheels  go  round  and  Bud  said  it  was 
taking  one  chance  in  a  thousand  that  he'd  ever  get 
back  to  London  behind  such  a  horse,  but  it  was  getting 
late  and  he  had  to  do  something.  So  he  fired  a  shot 
and  the  old  horse  reared;  he  must  have  hit  it  in  the 
lid  though  he  didn't  mean  to,  and  then  the  old  beast 
dropped.  That  scared  Bud,  and  the  horse  was  done 
for  anyhow,  and  there  was  no  need  to  hold  up  the  old 
party  inside.  So  he  caught  hold  of  me  and  we  ran 
down  the  road  together.  Bud  said  he  wasn't  going 
to  take  any  more  chances  so  he  left  me  to  wait  for 
you  and  walked  back  to  town.  My  word !  you've  been 
a  long  time  coming." 

"I  was  held,"  I  replied  truthfully. 

"You  don't  say !  Did  you  get  in  a  tight  corner  and 
couldn't  get  out?  Well,  there's  one  comfort,  they 
don't  know  you  in  this  part  of  the  world.  But  I'd 
have  known  your  face  anywhere,  even  if  Bud  hadn't 
described  you  to  me.  Why,"  and  she  gave  me  an 
arch  smile,  "I've  had  a  newspaper  picture  of  Johnny, 
the  Australian  Crook,  in  my  looking  glass  for  a  year. 
And  you  look  just  exactly  like  your  picture." 

"That  isn't  flattery,"  I  remarked,  glancing  uneasily 
down  the  road  and  wondering  what  I  would  do  if 
Bud  should  come.  "And  I'm  going  to  walk  on,"  I 
added.  "You  can  tell  Bud,  when  he  comes,  that  you 
have  seen  me  and  that  I've  gone." 

"Say,"  she  exclaimed,  touching  me  playfully,  "don't 
181 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

get  mad,  the  picture  was  a  corker.  And  if  you'll 
stay  till  Bud  comes,  I'll  make  him  let  you  in  on  some- 
thing good  in  town.  There's  a  big  wedding  to-night, 
one  of  those  American  heiresses  marries  a  Duke ;  and 
there's  wedding  presents — my  eye !  And  Bud's  gone 
to  look  'em  over.  He  said  he'd  come  back  and  get 
you,  maybe;  and  there  might  be  a  chance  to-night  just 
before  .morning,  when  they're  all  sound  asleep,  to  do 
a  little  work." 

"Can't  stop,"  I  said.  "Tell  Bud  I'll  see  him  in 
town." 

I  turned  to  go. 

"Say,"  she  called  after  me,  "don't  forget  our  num- 
ber ;  here  it  is  written  on  a  piece  of  paper.  Bud  told 
me  to  write  it  down  for  you.  It's  two  flights  up  in 
the  rear,  and  don't  you  go  and  get  yourself  lost." 

I  promised  faithfully  not  to  get  myself  lost. 

"Say,"  she  called  again.  "I  forgot  to  ask  you  for 
the  countersign,  but  I  knew  you,  anyway,  though  Bud 
told  me  to  be  sure  to  make  you  give  it." 

She  fumbled  with  the  slip  of  paper  on  which  there 
was  an  address;  I  clutched  it  hastily  and  put  it  in 
my  pocket. 

"That's  where  we  live ;  now  speak  the  countersign !" 
she  demanded. 

"It's  late  and  I  can't  bother  with  it;  ask  me  some 
other  time,"  I  called  back. 

Please  give  it — just  so  I  can  tell  Bud  you  had  it." 

She  came  after  me  and  grabbed  my  sleeve,  and, 
looking  me  straight  in  the  eye  she  solemnly  pro- 
nounced the  word  "Rome!"  Then  she  repeated  it. 
"Rome!" 

182 


THE    HIGHWAY  WOMAN 


I  looked  at  her. 

"Well,"  she  snapped,  "why  don't  you  say  your 
word?'" 

"It's  too  late,"  I  remonstrated  again,  tearing  myself 
away  and  turning  toward  the  little  side  path. 

"Well,  please  give  it,  just  this  once,  now,  'Singa- 
pore!'" 

"Singapore!"  I  cried,  moving  on,  for  I  distinctly 
heard  the  sound  of  wagon  wheels,  though  her  own 
ears  were  so  covered  by  the  automobile  veil  that  I 
knew  she  hadn't  heard  them  yet. 

"And  now  I'll  bid  you  good  night  and  move  off.  If 
Bud  comes  tell  him  I'm  not  here." 

I  was  already  out  of  her  sight  but,  far  from  being 
reassured,  I  was  in  a  more  disturbed  frame  of  mind 
than  before. 

I  knew  that  there  was  another  man  on  foot  in  the 
woods  that  night  and  prowling  around  the  Castle. 

And  I  remembered  the  diamond  and  how  Sir 
Charles  had  flashed  it — and  the  curious  rustling  in 
the  brush  which  both  Florentine  and  I  had  noticed. 

Yes,  there  was  another  personage  to  be  considered 
and  that  was  no  other  than  my  double,  Johnny,  the 
Australian  Crook.  My  lady  of  the  highway  had  told 
me  enough  of  his  whereabouts  so  that  I  knew  he  was 
in  this  locality.  But  where  was  he  and  what  was  he 
doing  ?  I  dropped  into  a  not  very  pleasant  study.  The 
woods  were  dense ;  the  underbrush  was  thick  and,  far 
off,  in  the  dim  shadows  lay  the  sleeping  Castle.  Had 
Johnny,  the  Australian  Crook,  got  tired  and  gone 
home,  or  was  he  loafing  in  the  woods? 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  wagon  now  and  I 

183 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

dashed  down  the  footpath,  leaving  her  to  face  Bud 
and  make  her  own  explanation  of  the  disappearance 
of  his  partner,  Johnny,  the  Australian.  As  for  the 
fate  of  Lady  Kensington's  wedding  presents — if  Bud 
got  back  to  town  in  time — well,  there's  no  need  of  bor- 
rowing trouble,  and  I  certainly  had  enough  on  my 
hands. 


184 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE   STAIRWAY   OF  VINES 

A\D  now  for  Florentine !  I  had  not  followed 
the  little  footpath  more  than  a  few  steps  be- 
fore I  saw  that  I  was  correct  in  my  surmise. 
After  leaving  the  high  road  it  curved  rather  sharply 
to  the  left  and  I  soon  knew  that  it  was  bringing  me 
back  through  the  close  trees  which  lay  to  the  east  of 
the  Castle.  By  walking  rapidly  I  found  myself,  in 
a  few  minutes  almost  under  the  Castle  windows, 
though  so  compact  were  the  woods  that  I  was  quite 
hidden  by  the  shade. 

Now  that  I  had  a  chance  to  inspect  it  I  discovered 
that  the  mansion  on  this  side  was  very  deep;  it 
stretched  back  as  far  as  the  eye  could  follow  it  in 
the  dark  and  it  seemed  made  up  of  additions.  There 
was  the  main  building,  tall  and  pretentious;  then  a 
large  wing,  and  to  this  had  been  built  another  wing, 
still  longer  and  reaching  far  back  into  an  extension 
which  I  judged  to  be  the  servants'  quarters.  It  was 
the  typical  old  English  castle,  half  decayed;  its  vines 
and  brush  bearing  witness  to  the  years  in  which  it  had 
lain  asleep.  I  doubted,  judging  from  the  greyness  of 
the  stone  and  the  dullness  of  the  wood,  if  mortal  hand 
had  been  put  upon  it  in  half  a  century. 

I  looked  along  the  old  east  wall ;  it  contained  the 
sleeping-rooms  of  the  family,  and  its  windows,  little 

185 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

squares  of  many  panes,  were  numerous ;  one  could 
imagine  them  twinkling  with  light  but  now  they  were 
black  and  lifeless. 

The  main  building  of  the  Castle  did  not  interest  me, 
so  I  crept  along  the  east  wing,  looking  upward,  until 
suddenly  I  found  myself  under  two  windows  bril- 
liantly illuminated.  There  was  a  slight  jutting  out  of 
the  wall  here  so  that  I  did  not  see  them  until  directly 
underneath.  I  withdrew  to  reconnoitre.  From  Uncle 
Henry's  description  I  judged  these  to  be  the  windows 
of  Sir  Charles'  room,  a  surmise  which  proved  correct. 

Scarcely  did  I  have  time  to  withdraw  into  the 
shadow,  if  there  could  be  any  deeper  shade  than  that 
vouchsafed  by  the  night  itself  which  had  grown  black 
as  Erebus,  when  the  shade  was  run  up  and  who  should 
appear  in  the  window  but  Sir  Charles  himself.  I 
saw  him  clearly  as  he  stood  fully  exposed  by  the  bril- 
liant glare  from  within.  However  feebly  the  other 
inmates  of  the  Castle  might  be  supplied  with  light  Sir 
Charles  had  plenty  of  illumination. 

He  was  looking  out  and  glancing  up  and  down  the 
wall  uneasily.  It  was  almost  as  if  he  had  a  premoni- 
tion of  evil,  for  he  leaned  out  of  the  window  and 
studied  the  woods  intently.  I  happened  to  be  hiding 
under  the  very  tree  that  grew  beneath  his  window ;  the 
upper  branches  almost  touched  his  shoulder.  He 
stared  straight  down  at  the  spot  where  I  was,  and  I 
closed  my  eyes  and  held  my  breath  for  it  seemed  as 
though  he  must  see  me. 

The  minute  lengthened  into  two,  still  he  stared 
down.  There  was  a  slow  movement  in  the  bushes 
near  me  and  the  unexpected  snapping  of  a  twig;  I 

186 


THE   STAIRWAY  OF   VINES 

dared  not  look  around  but  my  breath  quickened  for 
I  knew  that  Sir  Charles  must  hear  it;  something  or 
somebody  was  moving  near. 

I  thought  instantly  of  Johnny,  the  Australian  Crook, 
and  if  I  had  dared  I  would  have  dashed  out.  As  it 
was  I  felt  almost  sure  that  Sir  Charles  must  hear. 

He  did  hear  it  for  in  his  rough,  raucous,  rasping 
voice  he  called  a  hoarse :  "Who's  there  ?" 

The  rustle  ceased  and  I  could  imagine  that  another 
breath  was  being  held  not  so  very  far  from  mine  for 
it  had  grown  so  still.  But  there  was  a  silence,  and 
only  the  wind  lilted  the  trees. 

Sir  Charles  was  not  satisfied.  He  lingered  at  the 
window,  looking  straight  down  at  the  tree  trunk  be- 
hind which  I  crouched.  There  was  no  repetition  of 
the  snapping  and  after  a  while  he  drew  in  his  head, 
apparently  convinced  that  the  sound  had  been  a  fig- 
ment of  his  fancy.  Shortly  afterwards  his  light  went 
out. 

But  not  until  I  had  waited  some  minutes,  to  see  if 
he  returned  to  the  window,  did  I  venture  to  work  my 
way  along  the  east  wall  to  the  rear  wing  where  Flor- 
entine's room  was  located.  I  had  memorized  Uncle 
Henry's  directions  so  thoroughly  that  I  knew  it  at 
once.  But  I  stepped  back  into  the  trees  and  looked 
up,  counting  the  windows  as  I  looked.  Yes,  there  it 
was!  a  room  with  a  light  burning  dimly  in  it,  a  small 
glow  that  might  have  come  from  a  candle  that  had 
been  placed  upon  a  dresser  by  someone  who  expected 
to  return.  Yet  this  tiny  light  high  up  in  the  dark  was 
the  minaret  that  would  lead  me  to  my  lady. 

I  crept  up  closer  to  the  house;  the  window  of  the 
187 


THE  STAIRWAY   ON   THE   WALL 

room  was  open,  but  after  a  minute's  inspection  I  de- 
cided that  Florentine  was  not  in  her  room;  it  would 
be  useless — perhaps  worse — to  send  up  a  signal. 

The  wall  of  the  Castle  was  covered  with  vines ; 
they  were  rough  and  of  heavy  growth,  and,  as  I  stood 
still  gazing  upward,  I  rested  my  hand  upon  them. 
Their  stems  were  thick  and  gnarled,  and,  grasping 
them  tightly,  I  discovered  that  the  fibre  was  old  and 
tough;  they  must  have  crept  into  the  Castle  stone 
with  the  growth  of  many  a  generation. 

It  would  be  quite  easy  to  climb  up. 

Mechanically,  I  laid  my  hand  in  the  dense  growth 
of  leaves,  when,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  that  my  fin- 
gers were  touching  something  solid,  a  substance  that 
was  neither  leaves  nor  stems  but  firm  and  cold.  I 
parted  the  green  growth  and  saw  the  object.  It  was 
a  flat  stone  and  it  extended  out  from  the  Castle  wall 
for  a  distance  of  at  least  a  foot.  I  put  my  hand  under- 
neath the  stone  to  discover  what  supported  it  when 
my  fingers  clutched  an  iron  bar  that  had  been  driven 
into  the  wall.  I  stooped  and  examined  it  the  pro- 
jecting stone  was  supported  from  underneath  with  a 
strong  iron  bracket ;  I  stood  up  and  let  the  vines  spring 
back.  Instantly  they  closed  over  the  stone  effectu- 
ally concealing  it  from  sight. 

I  parted  the  leaves  again,  wonderingly.  Then  its 
meaning  flashed  over  me.  It  was  a  stone  step.  But 
why  should  it  be  there,  hidden  in  the  vines  on  the 
outer  wall  of  the  Castle?  I  could  not  even  conjecture 
an  answer.  While  I  stood  gazing  at  the  step  I  let  my 
hand  wander  upward  and  something  aroused  my 
suspicions.  It  was  an  iron  ring.  L  parted  the  vines 

188 


THE   STAIRWAY   OF   VINES 

a  little  above  the  ring  and  there  was  another  flat 
stone;  it  too,  was  a  step,  and  it  was  held  up  by  an 
iron  bracket  placed  beneath.  The  masonry — for  this 
step  was  nearer  the  level  of  my  eye — I  discovered  to 
be  of  the  finest. 

A  further  search  led  to  another.  Like  the  rest  it 
was  concealed  by  the  vines  which  hid  it  from  casual 
view  as  effectually  as  though  it  were  hidden  by  a 
screen.  Rings  were  driven  in  the  wall  at  frequent  in- 
tervals. 

One  step  rose  methodically  above  the  other. 

The  whole  purpose  was  now  clear.  It  was  a  stone 
stairway,  and  it  had  been  built  in  the  long  ago  by 
some  Sir  Knight.  Who  knows  why?  That  it  was  not 
placed  there  temporarily  was  evident  from  the  care 
with  which  it  was  constructed,  for  to  build  such  a 
stairway  on  the  outside  of  the  wall,  must  have  taken 
days  of  skillful  masonry.  The  shape  of  the  stones, 
the  accuracy  of  their  position  and  the  strength  of  their 
supports  told  plainly  that  the  stairway  had  been  built 
by  some  member  of  the  Hadley  family,  more  or  less 
eccentric,  who  had  preferred  to  make  entrance  to  his 
home  in  this  peculiar  manner. 

Now  the  stairway,  long  since  relegated  to  the  limbo 
of  disuse,  was  overgrown  with  heavy  vines.  But  it 
was  still  very  accessible  and  the  vines  rendered  it 
easier  to  climb  than  if  the  stones  had  been  naked  and 
slippery. 

I  took  one  step  up  and  poised  myself  upon  the  first 
stone,  and  leaned  against  the  Castle.  To  my  surprise 
my  hand  at  once  grasped  the  iron  ring  that  had  been 
driven  by  staples  into  the  stone  wall.  One  could  walk 

189 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

up  the  firm  steps,  with  hands  securely  locked  in  these 
hanging  rings,  or  one  could  catch  the  vines.  In  either 
case  it  would  be  no  difficult  feat. 

I  wondered  if  Florentine  knew  of  this  stairway  and 
if  she  ever  made  use  of  it.  It  led  upward  right  to  her 
chamber  window. 

How  easy,  I  thought,  for  a  person  who  wanted  to 
gain  access  to  the  Castle  to  run  up  this  outside  ladder 
of  stone  and  to  enter  Florentine's  room,  the  door  of 
which  opened  into  the  main  hall.  I  was  amazed  at  the 
carelessness  of  the  family  in  leaving  the  Castle  so 
exposed;  then  I  reflected  that  the  stairway  was  thor- 
oughly concealed  by  the  vines  which  hung  two  feet 
deep  upon  the  house,  and  that  no  person,  not  knowing 
of  its  existence,  would  imagine  it  to  be  there.  Still 
the  wall  was  risky,  for  an  athletic  person  could  walk 
up  the  tangled,  knotted  vines  even  without  stepping 
foot  upon  the  stone  stairway. 

Leaving  the  house  cautiously  by  keeping  in  the 
shadow  and  almost  crawling  in  the  heavy  grass,  I 
reached  the  nearest  tree ;  it  was  not  far  from  the  man- 
sion; and,  from  its  shelter,  though  thoroughly  cov- 
ered myself,  I  could  observe  what  went  on  in  the 
Castle  windows. 

I  crouched  behind  the  tree,  and,  not  daring  to  light 
a  cigarette  for  fear  of  the  light,  I  listened  and  waited. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  a  figure  came  stepping 
lightly  toward  me.  I  moved  a  little  for  I  thought  it 
was  Florentine  and  I  wanted  her  to  know  that  I  was 
near  her.  The  figure  came  nearer,  stopped  short,  and 
if  it  had  been  light  enough  to  see,  I  should  have 
said  that  it  stared  at  me.  I  stared  back.  It  was  only 

190 


THE   STAIRWAY   OF   VINES 

for  a  second  and  then  it  was  gone;  it  was  scarcely 
more  than  an  apparition,  a  shadow,  but  I  had  seen  it. 

My  impulse  was  to  go  shouting  after  the  man — for 
it  was  a  man  in  top  coat  and  soft  hat — to  head  him 
off,  or  to  frighten  him  away  at  least.  But  the  futil- 
ity of  this  was  too  apparent  for  any  kind  of  argument. 
If  I  were  to  leave  my  post  for  one  instant  I  might 
miss  Florentine.  And  besides,  to  run  unarmed  in  the 
dark  woods  would  put  me  at  a  disadvantage  that  could 
only  be  stamped  as  foolhardy ;  he  was  my  exact  coun- 
terpart ;  both  he  and  I  had  seen  that — it  was  the  Aus- 
tralian Johnny. 

On  the  other  hand,  by  letting  him  escape,  suppose  I 
were  bringing  danger  to  Florentine  who  might  be  in 
the  dark  woods. 

So  I  stood  still  and  waited,  though  this  time  with 
an  impatience  that  was  a  positive  agony.  I  clinched 
my  fists  and  swore,  and  in  my  agitation  I  stepped  out 
from  the  shelter  of  the  tree.  Where  was  Florentine? 
In  another  minute,  defying  consequences,  I  would 
dash  across  the  open  space  and  ascend  the  stone  stair- 
way, leading  up  to  her  window,  to  look  for  her. 

My  own  opinion  was  that  she  was  in  the  Castle  and 
I  watched  her  pane  to  see  the  light  flare  up.  She 
would  come  to  the  window  to  pull  down  her  shade  and 
then  I  would  see  her  and  signal  to  her.  To  be  sure, 
Sir  Charles  had  said  that  she  had  gone  back  to  Lon- 
don, but  this  I  knew  to  be  a  falsehood.  A  thousand 
foolish  fears  possessed  me. 

I  stood  there  in  the  woods,  looking  up  at  the  win- 
dow and  cursing  my  cowardice.  Why  did  I  not  dare 
to  put  foot  in  the  vines  and  climb  up  the  side  of  the 

191 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE   WALL 

house  to  the  open  window  ?  At  least  I  would  know  if 
Florentine  had  been  there. 

The  minutes  passed,  I  don't  know  how  many.  And 
then  I  thought  I  heard  a  rustle  as  of  some  light-footed 
person,  and,  out  of  the  deepened  shadows  of  the 
night,  I  saw  a  slender  form  creep  around  the  house. 
It  was  Florentine,  but  before  I  could  speak,  she  had 
grasped  the  vines  and  was  going  up  the  outside  of  the 
old  Castle.  With  a  surety  of  step  that  told  me  it  was 
not  the  first  time  she  had  entered  her  room  in  that 
way,  she  swung  herself  up,  using  the  stone  steps  and 
the  rings,  and  in  another  instant  she  had  stepped  into 
her  own  window  and  disappeared. 

But  she  was  scarcely  quicker  than  I ;  with  a  sudden 
determination  I  dashed  out  of  the  thicket  into  which  I 
had  retreated.  I  sped  over  the  open  space  and 
reached  the  vine  clad  wall  here,  grasping  the  vines, 
just  as  Florentine  had  done,  I  swung  myself  up  by 
taking  step  above  step  in  the  stones  among  the  heavy 
growth,  and  noting,  as  I  climbed,  how  firmly  they 
had  been  fastened  to  the  wall. 

Three  feet  below  Florentine's  room  I  stopped  and 
rattled  the  vines.  In  an  instant  she  was  at  the  open 
window,  holding  her  hand  to  her  heart  in  alarm. 

I  put  up  my  finger  for  caution.  Then,  by  signs  and 
motions,  I  signalled  to  her  to  come  out  and  join  me  in 
the  woods. 

I  can  say  now,  truthfully  and  candidly,  that  I  did 
not  know  what  was  in  my  own  mind  when  I  beckoned 
her  to  follow  me.  And  she  declared  afterwards  that 
she  did  not  know  what  emotion  impelled  her  to  pack 
her  satchel  and  obey.  But  she  came — down  the  stone 

192 


THE   STAIRWAY   OF    VINES 

stairway  on  the  wall  to  the  ground — and  I  stood  below 
and  caught  her  in  my  arms. 

I  know  that  I  was  thinking  of  Sir  Charles  as  well  as 
of  Florentine,  but  mostly  of  Florentine;  and  she  said 
later  that  she  was  thinking  of  Sir  Charles  and  me, 
but  mostly  of  me.  I  knew  that  I  was  a  free  man  and 
that  I  could  take  her  out  of  harm's  way  to  the  home 
of  her  Aunt  Faith  in  London  or  elsewhere.  Perhaps 
in  my  sub-conscious  mind  there  was  a  premonition 
that  it  was  not  safe  for  her  to  remain  in  her  room 
with  that  stairway  on  the  wall  leading  straight  up  to 
her  casement. 


193 


CHAPTER  XX 

ALONG   THE    NARROW    TRAIL 

SHE  stumbled,  and  as  I  caught  her,  her  hand  flew 
to  the  breast  of  her  gown;  I  remembered  that 
she  carried  the  pistol  which  she  took  from  the 
coat  of  Sir  Charles  in  the  hall. 

"Give  the  pistol  to  me,"  I  advised  as  we  hurried 
along  the  path  striking  a  narrower  trail  which  led  into 
a  still  blacker  woods. 

She  stopped  still  and  looked  at  me. 

"I  gave  it  to  you  to-night  in  the  woods,"  reminded 
she. 

"You  gave  me  the  pistol  to-night  in  the  woods?" 
questioned  I  incredulously. 

"Yes,"  she  affirmed  suddenly  leaning  against  me 
for  support.  "I  gave  it  to  you  over  there,  when  I 
was  returning  from  Pearl's  lodge — don't  you  remem- 
ber?" 

My  lapse  of  memory  perplexed  her ;  so  I  waited ; 
then  I  said  very  gently :  "Tell  it  to  me,  I  have  forgot- 
ten." 

And,  then,  though  much  surprised,  she  related  how 
she  had  gone  to  the  little  lodge  with  Pearl,  and  how, 
as  she  was  returning,  she  had  run  right  into  me  in  the 
woods.  Knowing  that  I  was  unarmed  she  had  taken 
the  pistol  from  her  bosom  and  had  handed  it  to  me. 

"You  did  not  speak,"  she  pursued,  "but  you  took  it 
194 


ALONG  THE  NARROW  TRAIL 

and  put  it  in  your  pocket !  Don't  you  recall  ?"  queried 
she,  anxiously,  "how  dark  the  Castle  looked  except  for 
the  one  bright  light  in  Cousin  Charles'  room  and  how 
he  came  to  the  window  and  looked  out?" 

I  nodded,  too  choked  to  speak. 

"And  he  heard  us,  for  he  called  'Who's  there  ?'  and 
we  stood  motionless  in  the  dark  until  he  went  back 
and  put  out  the  light." 

Florentine  told  me  further,  but  the  fact  of  interest 
to  me  was  that  the  poor  girl  had  felt  chilled  by  my 
manner,  for  I  had  said  nothing  but  had  slipped  off  into 
the  woods,  leaving  her  standing  there. 

"I  told  you  not  to  use  the  pistol — if  you  could  help 
it,"  declared  she. 

"Never  mind,"  I  replied  absently,  for  I  was  think- 
ing of  my  double,  now  armed  and  prowling  in  the 
woods — for  it  must  have  been  he — and  I  remembered 
Sir  Charles  and  the  prodigious  diamond  which  he  had 
flashed  so  recklessly  in  the  open  road. 

And  I  thought  of  the  stairway  on  the  wall. 

"It  had  slipped  my  memory,"  I  said  reassuringly. 
But  I  thanked  God  that  she  did  not  lie  sleeping  in  her 
room  with  that  stairway  of  vine  and  stone  offering 
open  invitation  to  her  window. 

A  great  criminal  lawyer  once  told  me  that  man 
does  not  want  to  kill;  but  when  he  goes  to  steal  that 
which  a  more  generous  fate  has  bestowed  upon  an- 
other, his  hand  becomes  his  enemy;  he  must  cut  and 
choke,  slash  and  murder  into  silence  all  that  lies  be- 
tween him  and  the  thing  he  would  possess ;  murder  is 
a  necessity,  a  hideous  but  an  unavoidable  afterthought. 

195 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

Quickly  banishing  such  meditations  from  my  mind 
I  smiled  reassuringly  at  Florentine. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  I  asked  in  a  whisper,  for 
she  had  become  the  leader. 

She  checked  her  steps.  "Why,  I  don't — know," 
she  said,  "if — if  you  don't!" 

"I'm  going  back  to  London  and  I'm  going  to  take 
you  with  me — to  be  married." 

"That  is  where  I  am  going;  but,  first — now — right 
now — I  must  tell  you." 

She  had  paused  in  her  rapid  walk  for  we  were  now 
out  of  ear-shot  of  the  Castle. 

"I  have  seemed  weak  and  not  knowing  my  own 
mind,"  she  began,  "but  it  was  only  because  I  did 
not  have  time — I  did  not  have  a  chance — to  decide; 
my  decision  is  now  reached.  I  am  running  away  with 
you  to  London,  but  I  cannot  become  your  wife." 

"You  must  explain,"  I  found  words  to  say. 

But  her  explanation  was  incoherent;  the  strain  of 
the  last  few  days,  the  fatigue  and  the  sudden  disclos- 
ure had  all  unnerved  her,  and  she  could  not  speak 
clearly. 

But  I  learned  that  it  was  her  intention  to  go  to  Lon- 
don and  there  to  escape  to  foreign  shores — far  away 
from  the  Hadleys — in  order  that  she  might  see  and 
know  her  mother — the  woman  whom  Aunt  Faith  had 
so  horribly  depicted  to  her  to-night. 

"She  is  my  mother  after  all,"  sobbed  Florentine, 
"and  no  matter  what  she  is,  I  must  find  her;  if  she  is 
bad,  utterly  worthless,  so  much  the  more  reason  why 
I  should  be  with  her. 

"And  she  is  young — scarcely  twenty  years  older 
196 


ALONG  THE  NARROW  TRAIL 

than  I,"  she  went  on,  speaking  rapidly.  "I  have  often 
pictured  her — as  I  supposed  she  would  have  been  if 
she  had  lived.  But,  oh," — here  her  weeping  broke  out 
afresh — "the  picture  Aunt  Faith  showed  me  to-night 
— the  awful  photograph,  the  bold,  staring  eyes,  the 
shameful  gown — it  seems  too  terrible — I  must  be  in 
a  nightmare !" 

Florentine  hid  her  face,  turning  her  head  away 
from  me. 

I  took  a  cigar  out  of  my  pocket  and,  striking  a 
match,  I  leisurely  pulled  the  air  current  through  the 
soothing  roll  of  fragrant  weed;  even  this  slight  exer- 
tion did  me  good. 

She  turned  on  me  suddenly. 

"I  don't  believe  you  are  listening,"  she  said. 

"I'm  not,"  I  remarked  coolly. 

"But — you  ought  to  know " 

"Not  if  it  doesn't  interest  me,"  I  observed. 

"And  now,"  returned  I,  "it  is  my  turn  to  speak.  I 
believe  what  you  tell  me  about  your  mother,  or  I'm 
trying  to  believe  it — but  the  fact  is  that  two  can  travel 
more  compactly  than  one.  And  after  we  are  married 
— in  London  to-morrow — we  will  go  to  this — this 
mining  camp  where  she  is " 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  do  not  care — even 
now  that  you  know  all?" 

"That's  what  I'm  saying,"  retorted  I.  "And  we  will 
talk  the  whole  matter  over  some  other  time  when " 

She  brightened  so  that  I  knew  where  her  heart  led ; 
and  slowly  we  went  on  striking  deeper  into  the  woods. 

It  is  something  to  be  joyous  and  twenty ;  before  we 
had  proceeded  far  I  had  made  her  promise  that  we 

197 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

would  be  married  as  we  planned.  I  saw  that  she  had 
been  a  lady  all  her  life ;  a  belle  much  courted  and 
petted;  and  it  was  difficult  for  her,  all  at  once,  to 
realize  herself  as  a  social  outcast — a  fact  for  which 
I  was  profoundly  thankful. 

"To-morrow,"  I  said. 

"Unless  Cousin  Charles  stops  us,"  she  added  white- 
lipped  again. 

"I'll  murder  him  cold-blooded,"  I  swore  as  we  has- 
tened our  steps.  "Now,  no  more  of  our  troubles  until 
I  give  you  leave  to  speak  of  them  again/'  I  com- 
manded with  an  assumption  of  authority. 

And  to  this  she  agreed. 

"But  this  path?"  I  questioned,  "where  does  it  go?" 

"Oh,  this  footway  is  called  the  Sepoy  cabin  run ; 
it  cuts  two  miles  off  the  way,  and  it  leads  straight  to 
the  London  road.  I've  taken  it  many  a  time  when  I 
was  a  child;  it  is  where  Pearl,  the  Sepoy  girl,  used 
to  bring  me  to  visit  her." 

"Does  Pearl  live  here  in  the  woods?" 

"Yes,  that  is  her  little  lodge  over  there.  She  lives 
there  with  a  servant,  but,  daytimes,  if  she  is  lonely, 
she  comes  to  the  Castle." 

"I  should  think  she  would  often  feel  solitary." 

"Oh,  it  is  pleasant  enough  in  the  day,  and,  when  I 
am  at  the  Castle,  I  frequently  walk  here  to  see  Pearl ; 
it  is  very  near,  and  to-night " 

Florentine  paused  suddenly.  "Oh,  dear,  I  am  so 
tired."  she  complained,  "I  feel  as  though  I  could  not 
go  another  step." 

"Let  me  help  you,"  I  returned,  taking  the  satchel 
from  her  hand — I  had  previously  tried  to  take  it 

198 


ALONG    THE   NARROW   TRAIL 

but  she  had  deftly  swung  it  away  from  me — "and, 
here,  let  us  sit  down  awhile  and  rest." 

Florentine  sank  upon  a  log  over  which  I  stumbled 
as  I  looked  for  a  seat  for  her  and  I  knelt  by  her  side. 
It  was  densely  dark,  so  dark  that  the  blackness  hung 
like  a  curtain  around  us.  But,  at  one  side  of  the  path, 
a  little  higher,  stood  the  tiny  lodge  in  which  the  Sepoy 
girl  lived.  Florentine's  eyes  followed  mine  as  I  gazed 
at  the  light  in  the  little  house. 

"Poor  Pearl,"  she  sighed,  "I  am  so  sorry  for  her." 

"Is  she  unhappy?" 

"Only  that  she  loves  Cousin  Charles!" 

"How  can  she  love  such  a  brute?"  I  asked,  thinking 
of  Sir  Charles  in  all  the  unattractive  guises  in  which 
I  had  seen  him. 

"Oh,"  said  Florentine,  avoiding  my  eyes,  "it's  an 
old  story — they  were  together  in  India — and  Pearl 
loved  him — and  when  he  came  back — well,  she  fol- 
lowed." 

"I  don't  wonder  you  say  'poor  girl'  if  her  happi- 
ness is  tied  up  in  such  a  creature  as  he." 

The  tears  came  into  Florentine's  eyes.  "I  can't 
tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  for  her.  And  to-night  when 
she  heard  or  she  thought — I  was  going  to  marry  him 
she  was  almost  beside  herself  with  jealousy." 

"Did  she  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  the  wretched  girl  told  me — confessed  it  all — 
to  me— how  she  had  tried — to  kill  me "  Floren- 
tine stopped. 

"Was  it  she  who  shot  up  the  feather  boa  that  was 
around  my  neck?" 

199 


Florentine  inclined  her  head  in  a  gesture  that  meant 
yes. 

"And  were  you  out  here  in  the  cabin  with  her  when 
we  were  searching  for  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  the  poor  creature  wanted  so  much  to  talk  to 
me  before  she  slept  and  she  could  say  nothing  before 
Cousin  Charles.  She  saw  the  diamond  he  had  brought 
for  me,  and  was  maddened  by  it.  So,  when  you  were 
reviving  Mr.  Pancoast,  I  slipped  away  with  her;  I 
was  a  comfort  to  her." 

I  felt  relieved  and  I  voiced  it. 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  Florentine,  hiding  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  adding  a  few  terms  to  be 
found  only  in  the  lover's  dictionary  of  words  and 
phrases. 

"Oh,  it  was  so  dreadful " 

"What ?" 

"What  she  told  me.  I  can  scarcely  believe  it — 
that  she  would  be  so  desperate " 

"Don't  cry,"  I  said,  after  the  aimless  fashion  of 
man,  as  I  found  a  seat  on  a  log  alongside  her.  "When 
you  are  married,  Pearl  will,  perhaps,  get  the  dear  ob- 
ject of  her  affections  back  again." 

"No,  oh  no !  He  has  cast  her  off  utterly,  poor  girl. 
And  now  she  says  there  is  nothing  but  to  kill  her- 
self. Oh,  it  is — too  terrible."  Florentine  shook  as 
with  a  chill. 

"Where  did  he  get  that  wonderful  diamond?"  she 
asked. 

I  could  not  answer,  and,  as  she  still  trembled, 
I  talked  as  best  I  could,  and  we  sat  together  and 

200 


ALONG   THE  NARROW   TRAIL 

watched  the  light  in  the  little  lodge;  Pearl  was  still 
awake  and  we  saw  her  form  in  shadow  as  she  moved 
about  the  room. 

"She  feels  so  conscience-stricken  about — about  to- 
night !" 

"About  to-night! " 

Florentine  did  not  have  time  to  explain  for  the 
light  in  the  lodge  went  out.  And  a  minute  later, 
there  was  a  muffled  report,  a  pistol  shot ! 

Florentine  jumped  to  her  feet  with  a  cry. 

"It  is  Pearl !  She  said  she  was  going  to  take  her 
own  life." 

She  swayed,  and  before  I  could  catch  her  she  sank 
to  the  ground,  a  crumpled  heap.  I  got  down  on  my 
knees  by  the  side  of  her  and  called  her  name ;  she  did 
not  answer;  I  begged  her  to  speak,  to  move,  to  give 
some  sign;  but  she  was  motionless.  Poor  child!  I 
did  not  wonder  for  she  had  been  through  so  much. 
I  was  almost  relieved  that  she  had  lost  consciousness, 
for  she  was  breathing  regularly  and  her  cheeks  though 
pale  were  warm.  I  took  her  hand  and  felt  that  her 
heart  was  beating  steadily;  it  was  nature's  way  of 
giving  rest. 

And  then  I  did  something  for  which  I  ought  always 
to  be  sorry.  I  left  Pearl  in  her  cabin  to  her  fate,  and, 
stooping,  I  put  my  arms  under  Florentine  and  lifted 
her.  Though  she  is  not  small  she  seemed  light  as  a 
feather,  and,  throwing  her  across  my  shoulder,  I 
made  my  way  as  fast  as  possible  along  the  path  in  the 
woods  to  the  open  space  beyond. 

It  was  not  until  we  had  reached  the  end  of  the 
way  where  it  opened  into  the  road,  that  I  stopped  and 
20 1 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

laid  my  burden  on  the  ground.  She  was  still  uncon- 
scious, but  I  did  not  need  the  first  slant  of  yellow 
from  the  East  to  tell  me  that  she  was  breathing;  it 
was  shock  and  exhaustion.  At  the  side  of  the  road 
there  ran  a  little  rill  of  water  and  I  scooped  up  some 
of  it  in  my  hands  and  brought  it  to  her.  Slowly  she 
opened  her  eyes  and  I  could  see  that  she  knew  me. 
She  struggled  to  get  up  but  at  the  exertion  her 
'breath  came  in  little  gasps.  It  was  one  of  those  in- 
teresting moments  in  life  when  something  heroic 
ought  to  be  said.  But  all  I  could  think  of  was  a  mis- 
erable, 

"How  do  you  feel?" 

And  Florentine,  as  soon  as  she  could  speak,  said 
she  was  feeling  much  better  and  she  was  sorry  that 
she  had  been  so  much  trouble  and — where  was  the 
satchel  ? 

I  had  forgotten  it  and  I  told  her  so. 

"Oh,  please — please  go  back  and  get  it,"  she  plead- 
ed. She  added  that  it  wasn't  very  far  and  she  must 
have  it. 

I  reasoned  with  her  but  to  no  avail. 

"It  has  something  in  it,  something  I  want  very 
much,"  she  begged,  "do  please  go  back  and  get  it." 

"We'll  buy  a  dozen  just  like  it  in  Paris  to-morrow," 
I  protested. 

But  no,  she  must  have  the  one  that  was  in  that 
satchel.  So  back  I  went  along  the  wood  road  which 
was  now  quite  distinct  in  the  promise  of  the  dawn. 

I  found  the  satchel  just  where  we  had  left  it,  in 
sight  of  Pearl's  cabin.  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up  and,  as 
I  rose,  I  looked  across  the  tree  tops  to  the  West.  The 

202 


ALONG  THE  NARROW  TRAIL 

turrets  of  the  Castle  were  faintly  outlined  against 
the  sky  and  I  could  imagine  its  inmates  asleep  in  that 
heavy  sleep  of  absolute  unconsciousness  which  comes 
just  before  the  dawn. 

Involuntarily — I  could  not  have  told  why — I  took 
a  few  steps  in  that  direction.  Yes,  there,  like  a  vision 
of  shadowland  was  the  old  building;  its  castellated 
turrets  sharp  now  through  the  trees. 

It  was  dark  but  I  fancied  I  could  see  the  vine-cov- 
ered wall — and  the  outside  stairway !  And  I  knew 
that  it  led  toward  the  room  where  Sir  Charles  lay 
heavily  sleeping;  how  easy  it  would  be  to  go  and 
square  accounts  with  him,  now,  even  as  he  had  tried 
to  square  them  with  me  before. 

The  temptation  was  great  and  I  wrestled  with  it. 
In  the  morning  he  would  awake  and  I  knew  him  too 
well  to  imagine  that  he  would  play  an  inactive 
part. 

Yet  there  was  Florentine ;  I  could  have  no  thoughts 
which  I  must  shield  from  her  clear  eyes.  I  turned 
from  the  Castle  and  started  back,  satchel  in  hand. 

"Oh !"  an  exclamation  of  pain  broke  from  my  lips. 
I  stooped  and  felt  my  foot ;  I  had  stepped  upon  a 
sharp  knife  and  the  blade  had  run  into  my  shoe. 

I  extricated  the  dagger — for  dagger  it  was — and 
examined  the  sole  of  my  shoe;  the  point  had  merely 
slit  the  inner  leather. 

Holding  the  dagger  up  in  the  semi-darkness  I 
looked  at  it  in  wonder  for  it  was  of  glistening  steel 
and  its  handle  was  a  marvel  in  Indian  workmanship, 
silver  and  gold  and  mixed  metals!  Thrusting  the 
trophy  into  my  pocket  I  now  hurried  along — for  I 

203 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE   WALL 

had   delayed   some   minutes — but   by   half   running   I 
soon  covered  the  distance. 

When  I  returned,  Florentine  was  on  her  feet, 
straightening  her  hat,  and  putting  the  intelligent  lit- 
tle touches  to  her  gown  which  women  understand  so 
well.  She  greeted  me  with  a  smile  and  I  was  de- 
lighted to  see  that  there  was  color  in  her  face  once 
more. 

"Now,"  said  I,  "you  stay  here  while  I  go  and  look 
up  a  cab ;  there's  usually  a  night  hawk  to  be  found  be- 
tween four  and  five  in  the  morning  even  on  a  country 
road." 

But  Florentine  said  she  would  not'  let  me  go  with- 
out her.  So,  together,  we  two,  looking — well,  Flor- 
entine laughed  aloud  as  she  got  her  first  dawn  glimpse 
of  me — we  two  started  along  the  high  road  to  Lon- 
don, grip  in  hand,  but  lighter  of  heart  than  we  had 
been  for  many  hours.  As  for  Florentine  she  never 
looked  prettier,  for  she  wore  the  neat  little  walking 
suit  of  the  night  before,  and  she  had  a  marvelous 
method  all  her  own  of  looking  trim.  But  I  thought 
as  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  torn  dress  coat  that  a 
more  disreputable  looking  customer  than  I  never 
strayed  into  London. 

"You  were  gone  so  long,"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  stopped  to  get  this,"  I  answered  reaching  into 
my  pocket  for  the  dagger. 

"Isn't  it  a  beauty?" 

She  took  it  from  my  hand  and  gave  one  fright- 
ened glance  at  it. 

"Why,  it's  a  dagger,"  she  cried,  "and" — looking  at 
her  hands  and  mine — "it  is  covered  with  blood !" 

204 


ALONG   THE   NARROW   TRAIL 

"Not  blood!"  I  ejaculated  incredulously,  as  I 
stooped  to  pick  it  up. 

"It  is  blood,"  she  shuddered,  shrinking  away  from 
it;  "and  the  dagger — oh,  I  know  it  well — I  have  seen 
it  a  thousand  times — it  belongs  to  Cousin  Charles; 
for  years  he  has  slept  with  it  almost  at  his  hand,  by 
the  side  of  his  bed." 

"Florentine — are  you  positive?"  I  returned  consid- 
erably shaken. 

She  reaffirmed  what  she  had  said. 

"Then,"  pondered  I,  "how  did  it  get  into  the  woods, 
all  covered  with  fresh  blood,  at  this  hour?" 

To  my  surprise — perhaps  because  she  had  other 
troubles  on  her  mind — Florentine  did  not  seem  trou- 
bled. "He  must  have  thrown  it  away — and — perhaps 
a  wounded  animal  stepped  upon  it." 

It  was  very  far  from  explaining  matters  to  me  but 
I  was  only  too  glad  that  she  passed  so  lightly  over  that 
which  was  of  most  ominous  import  to  me.  In  a  min- 
ute she  had  forgotten  it. 

In  the  suburbs  we  had  the  good  fortune  to  find  a 
cab,  and  Florentine  was  smiling  again  as  I  helped  her 
in. 

"See,"  she  said,  "it  is  getting  rosy  in  the  East,  and 
somewhere  I  think  a  skylark  is  singing." 

I  didn't  care  anything  about  the  skylark,  but,  as  I 
looked  at  Florentine  and  noted  the  pink  flush  in  her 
cheeks,  I  hoped  that  a  soft  gay  cloud  was  rainbowing 
the  world  for  me. 

"Do  be  careful  of  the  satchel,"  she  cautioned  me  as 
I  flung  it  under  the  seat. 

205 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON  THE   WALL 

"It's  all  right,"  I  said  and  then  I  fell  into  a  moody 
reverie  from  which  Florentine  roused  me. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  "I  hope  it  isn't 
any  more  trouble,"  she  added,  nervously. 

"Not  trouble  exactly,  but  I'm  wondering  where  I 
am  going  to  take  you  at  half  past  four  in  the  morn- 
ing." This  was  one  of  my  perplexities  but  I  had  to 
admit  that  I  was  also  terribly  oppressed  by  the  uncer- 
tainties of  the  night,  the  outcome  of  which  I  was 
not  yet  to  know. 

"I  could  go  to  Aunt  Faith's,"  she  said  doubtfully. 

"And  set  the  servants  talking." 

"Or  to  Lady  Hensington's." 

"And  set  all  London  gossiping!  A  nice  news  item 
it  would  be,  how  Roman  Elliott,  an  American,  had 
eloped  with  the  reigning  beauty  of  the  London  season, 
and  how,  pursued  by  her  cousin,  Sir  Charles " 

Cousin  Charles!  It  was  an  unfortunate  reminder 
for  us  both. 

Florentine  frowned  and  bit  her  lip  and  then  she 
made  a  thousand  apologies — lest  I  should  judge  her 
forward  for  running  off  with  me  this  way,  for  she 
thought  I  was  reproaching  her  as  men  do  reproach 
women  who  let  themselves  be  led. 

I  put  my  head  out  of  the  cab  and  gave  the  driver 
an  order. 

"Now,"  I  explained,  "I've  settled  matters ;  you're 
to  come  to  my  apartment  house  with  me.  At  the  en- 
trance there  is  a  reception  room  and  there  you  can 
remain  until  London  wakes  up.  Meanwhile  I  will  see 
what  the  combined  efforts  of  two  men,  one  of  them  a 
Japanese  valet,  can  do,  to  improve  my  appearance." 

206 


ALONG  THE  NARROW  TRAIL 

"You  do  look  rather  odd.  Why !"  she  exclaimed  as 
her  eyes  fell  on  my  face,  "your  chin  is  badly  hurt  and 
— there's  a  big  cut  on  your  head  " 

"The  bullet  grazed  my  chin  and  I  think  I  accumu- 
lated the  head  slash  when  the  Constable  forcibly  made 
my  acquaintance." 

"And  there's  a  terrible  lump  on  your  forehead — 
and  it's  turning  blue." 

"Experience  often  results  fn  blueness,"  I  said  with 
the  wisdom  that  befits  my  years. 

I  touched  my  chin  to  sec  if  it  was  still  bleeding, 
and  this  brought  Florentine's  mind  back  to  the  bullet. 
She  put  her  hand  over  her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  a 
memory. 


207 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   LADY   OF  THE   VIOLETS 

BUT  now  we  were  in  London,  rattling  over  the 
pavements  in  the  dim  light  of  the  grey  dawn. 
"We  are  almost  there,"  I  assured  her,  "and 
you  will  soon  be  where  you  can  rest  a  little  while 
until  the  city  wakens." 

As  I  spoke  we  touched  the  Strand,  and  along  we 
sped  until  we  drew  up  in  front  of  one  of  the  most 
pretentious  apartment  houses  in  London,  the  smart 
structure  in  which  Lady  Hensington  had  taken  a 
furnished  flat  for  me. 

I  helped  Florentine  out  of  the  cab  and  past  the 
sleepy  doorman,  into  the  little  reception  room,  where 
I  saw  that  she  was  made  as  comfortable  as  its  limited 
quarters  would  permit.  Then  I  left  her  to  go  up 
to  my  apartment. 

As  I  passed  the  desk  I  asked  casually,  and  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  if  any  mail  had  come  for  me.  The 
clerk,  reaching  into  my  box,  took  out  a  letter.  I 
glanced  at  it  hastily;  it  bore  a  trans- Atlantic  stamp 
and  I  saw  that  it  was  in  Cousin  Irene's  handwriting. 
Mechanically  I  opened  it  for  I  knew  what  it  would 
contain.  An  account  of  the  doings  of  the  foreign  mis- 
sionary society  of  Beverly;  of  the  church  work;  gos- 
sip anent  the  Ladies'  Club  and  the  usual  family  hap- 
penings with  some  health  hints  from  Irene.  I  ran 

208 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   VIOLETS 

my  eye  over  it  carelessly,  then  I  perused  it  again, 
this  time  with  care,  and  this  is  what  I  read : 

Dear  Cousin  Roman : 

It  will  not  surprise  you  to  learn  that  I  have  accepted 
the  call  to  the  American  College  at  Constantinople.  I  will 
start  for  the  college  at  once.  You  remember  that  I  told 
you  that  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  teach  the  Turks  and  it  is 
an  old  dream  of  duty  come  true  in  reality.  I  have  wanted 
to  go  for  years — the  missionary  prompting  has  been 
strong,  but  the  trouble  has  been  about  father;  I  could  not 
leave  him  to  keep  house  for  himself.  Now,  however,  1 
have  found  a  competent  woman  servant  who  will  be  cook 
and  whose  daughter  is  a  capable  waitress.  The  daughtei 
has  a  husband  who  has  references  of  ten  years  in  his  last 
place  to  show  that  he  is  a  trusty  butler,  and  old  James, 
the  coachman,  has  promised  to  remain.  With  such  help 
the  path  seemed  providentially  made  clear,  and  I  am  start- 
ing at  once  for  that  heathen  land. 

Father  will  go  with  me  as  far  as  Paris,  as  he  has  busi- 
ness in  that  city,  and,  as  we  are  going  to  stop  over  in 
London,  we  will  see  you  there.  We  sail  to-morrow  on 
the  Baltic,  and  will  be  in  London  almost  as  soon  as  you 
get  this  letter. 

Your  affectionate  Cousin, 

IRENE. 

I  held  the  letter  in  my  hand  pondering;  so  Irene 
was  on  her  way  to  Constantinople,  and  she  and  Uncle 
Jason  would  be  here  almost  any  day.  I  looked  at  the 
date  of  the  letter  and  then  at  the  sailing  chart  which 
hung  over  the  desk. 

"When  is  the  Baltic  due  ?"  I  asked  the  clerk. 

"She  got  in  Liverpool  yesterday,  sir,"  said  the 
clerk. 

"Then  her  passengers  are  in  London  now?" 

I  stood  in  front  of  the  desk  wondering, 
209 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

"I  don't  suppose  you  would  know  if  a  lady  and 
gentleman,  a  lady  with  spectacles  and  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman, called  on  me  yesterday." 

The  clerk  woke  up.  "Why,  yes,  sir,  there  was  a 
lady  called  here  last  night,  and  we  let  her  go  up  to 
your  rooms." 

"Was  she  a  young  woman,  rather  short  and  thick- 
set, an  American  lady?" 

The  clerk  looked  doubtful. 

"She  wasn't  short  nor  thick-set,  sir,  but  she  was  an 
American,  no  doubt  about  that,  and  she  said  she'd  go 
right  up  and  it  would  be  all  right." 

"Of  course — of  course!"  I  said  hastily.  "But  was 
there  an  old  gentleman  with  her?" 

No,  the  clerk  had  seen  no  gentleman  except  the  six 
or  eight  men  who  had  called  to  se"e  the  lady — rather 
late — but,  no!  no  elderly  gentleman. 

I  thought  at  the  time  that  the  clerk  was  rather  con- 
strained in  his  manner,  but  I  explained  it  then  as  be- 
ing due  to  the  hour,  only  I  recalled  it  afterwards. 

So  six  or  eight  gentlemen  had  called  to  see  Irene 
late  last  night.  It  was  a  little  strange  for  I  had 
never  known  Irene  to  have  a  gentleman  caller;  dur- 
ing the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  her  thirty  odd 
years  she  has  professed  a  vehement  scorn  for  men 
as  companions.  Perhaps  it  was  a  mistake. 

Well,  they  were  here,  and  Uncle  Jason  evidently 
had  gone  to  a  hotel,  leaving  Irene  to  make  herself 
comfortable  in  my  apartment  during  my  absence; 
still  it  was  odd  considering  Irene's  sense  of  propriety. 
I  remembered,  now,  that  I  had  left  word  that  I  did 
not  know  when  I  would  be  back  and  they  had  stupidly 

210 


THE   LADY   OF   THE    VIOLETS 

interpreted  it  to  mean  that  I  had  gone  out  of  town; 
but  it  did  not  matter  so  much. 

So  Irene,  practical,  commonsense  Irene,  with  the 
square-toed  shoes,  and  the  broad,  practical  figure  was 
here.  And  in  the  reception  room  was  delicate  high 
bred  Florentine  as  different  from  Irene  in  type  as  a 
love  bird  is  different  from  a  sparrow.  But  I  could 
now  take  Florentine  up  and  the  dear  girl  could  smooth 
her  feathers.  Irene  was  a  lady  brought  up  to  dis- 
pense New  England  hospitality,  and  would  be  nice  to 
Florentine  no  matter  how  their  ideals  might  differ. 

In  the  reception  room  I  found  Florentine  looking 
dainty  and  sweet  and  half  asleep  in  a  nest  of  pillows. 
I  roused  her  though  it  seemed  a  pity  to  do  so,  and 
she  said  she  wasn't  asleep  and  wasn't  tired  and  that 
she  was  perfectly  comfortable  where  she  was.  I 
insisted,  however,  and,  after  I  had  explained  matters, 
I  put  Florentine  and  the  satchel  in  the  lift  and  we 
went  spinning  up  to  my  apartment. 

"I  suppose — of  course — the  lady  isn't  up  yet,"  I 
said  to  the  lift-boy,  "that  is,  you  haven't  seen  her  this 
morning?" 

It  was  a  foolish  question  for  it  was  hardly  five 
o'clock.  But  his  answer  rather  surprised  me. 

"No,  sir,  she  ain't  up  yet,  which  ain't  to  be  won- 
dered at,  sir,  considering  that  she  ain't  been  to  bed 
long.  Her  company  didn't  go  till  morning,  sir,  and 
she's  been  singing  most  of  the  night  since." 

Singing!  I  did  not  recall  the  first  hint  of  a  musical 
bent  in  Irene  as  long  as  I  had  known  her,  and  we 
were  children  together;  certainly  I  had  never  heard 
of  her  singing  until  morning. 

211 


THE   STAIRWAY   ON   THE    WALL 

"How  delightful!"  exclaimed  Florentine,  as  we 
stepped  out  of  the  elevator,  "I  am  sure  I  shall  like 
your  Cousin  Irene;  I  do  so  like  music." 

We  went  along  the  dimly  lighted  hall  to  my  parlor 
door  and  I  put  in  the  key  and  stood  fumbling  with 
the  lock. 

"There  are  six  rooms  in  my  suite,"  I  explained. 
"This  takes  us  into  the  parlor." 

The  key  did  not  work ;  I  had  taken  the  wrong  one, 
so  I  tried  another.  But  before  I  could  turn  it,  the 
door  was  opened  cautiously  and  the  head  of  Yama, 
my  Japanese  valet,  shot  out. 

"Good !"  cried  he,  when  he  saw  me.  "Very  good ! 
Much  good!  Beautiful  business  that  you  come  home!" 

Then,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  Florentine,  he  gave  a 
click-click  of  dismay.  "Wait  minute,  wait  minute," 
he  said.  "Wait,  I  speak  to  you  first." 

Then  followed  a  most  extraordinary  manoeuvre. 
Yama  closed  the  door  in  our  faces  and  sped  back 
through  the  rooms.  We  could  hear  the  patter-patter 
of  his  slippered  feet  as  he  ran  through  the  drawing- 
room  and  the  rooms  beyond.  A  minute  later  he  ap- 
peared in  the  kitchen  door  of  the  flat  and  stood  there 
beckoning  wildly  for  me  to  come  back  and  enter  that 
way. 

"Certainly  not!"  I  said  in  some  annoyance  as  I 
again  put  my  key  in  the  lock,  "we  will  go  in  the  draw- 
ing-room!" This  time  it  was  the  right  key  and  the 
door  opened.  Throwing  it  back  I  held  it  wide  for  my 
dear  Lady  Florentine  to  enter. 

"Welcome  to  my  home !"  I  exclaimed,  "and  to  my 
hearth  and  sofa  cushions." 

212 


THE   LADY   OF   THE    VIOLETS 

I  got  no  further  in  the  pretty  little  speech  I  was  im- 
provising, for  I  stopped  in  the  utmost  bewilderment 
and  looked  around.  Florentine,  too,  stared  in  sur- 
prise, for  an  odor  of  violets  pervaded  the  air,  an  odor 
that  was  heavy  as  a  hot-house;  and  upon  the  chairs 
were  violet  silk  belongings,  lingerie,  hosiery  and  tea 
gowns;  and  on  the  floor  were  piled  gowns  of  all  de- 
scriptions, pale  violet  and  deep  violet.  On  everything, 
on  the  tea  table,  the  piano,  and  even  on  my  desk,  was 
heaped  violet  lingerie.  The  whole  room  billowed  and 
cascaded  with  ruffles  of  violet  and  lace,  while  the  un- 
mistakable odor  of  violet  sachet  powder  swept  to- 
ward us  in  great  heavy  waves.  We  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  pick  our  way  through  an  importer's  em- 
porium. Through  an  open  window  there  swept  a 
breeze  which  stirred  the  dozens  of  violet  silk  hosiery 
that  hung  like  badly  behaved  portieres  over  the  chair 
backs. 

"Great  Spain!"  I  exclaimed. 

Could  this  be  the  orderly  little  flat  I  had  left  behind 
only  yesterday,  and  what  had  happened  to  it  and  how ! 

I  looked  at  Florentine ;  after  one  glance  around  she 
had  stepped  back  into  the  hall  and  I  could  see  that 
her  face  had  turned  flame  red. 

A  violet  silk  corset  with  strings  yards  long  hung 
over  the  Venetian  screen  at  the  door. 

"Wait,  Florentine!"  I  cried,  for  she  was  heading 
for  the  elevator.  "Wait  and  I  will — I  can — explain." 
Though  how  I  was  going  to  explain  I  didn't  know.  I 
looked  for  Yama,  he  was  crouching  in  the  doorway 
of  the  bedroom. 

"What  in  Hell  does  this  mean  ?"  I  demanded. 
213 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

Yama  wrung  his  hands.  "Much  bad  business,  too 
bad,  I  say,  too  bad!" 

"Of  course  it's  too  bad  !  What — why — didn't  you 
tell  me,  you  miserable  heathen?" 

Yama  gesticulated  and,  keeping  out  of  my  way, 
tried  to  say  that  he  wanted  to  tell  me  but  that  I  would 
not  give  him  a  chance.  I  reached  the  bedroom  door 
in  two  strides  and  grasped  him  by  the  shoulders. 

"Whose  clothes  are  these,"  I  cried,  "and  where 
did  they  come  from?" 

Yama,  with  his  finger  on  his  lips,  shook  his  head 
and  pointed  to  the  inner  bedroom.  I  could  dimly  guess 
that  there  was  an  occupant,  for  there  was  a  sound 
within,  as  of  a  nap  disturbed  and  a  long  drawn  out 
yawn ;  a  sleepy  feminine  voice  came  floating  out : 

"Who's  there?" 

Yama  chuckled  and  looked  at  me. 

"She  want  many  things,  all  time ;  much  business  to 
wait  on  her  when  she  awake,"  he  whispered. 

The  sleepy  yawn,  prolonged  beyond  all  reason  this 
time,  came  drifting  from  my  bed  chamber;  I  could 
guess  that,  like  the  drawing-room,  it  reeked  of  violets, 
and  the  voice,  now  petulant,  demanded  again  to  know 
who  was  there. 

"It's  Yama,  Miss,"  replied  my  valet  in  the  tone  of 
one  who  has  been  subdued  by  experience. 

An  imperious  feminine  voice  came  sharply  forth. 

"Well,  keep  quiet  out  there,  you  Pussyfoot,  and. 
if  you  can't  keep  quiet,  then  bring  my  cup  of  coffee." 

There  was  no  reply  for  Yama's  tongue  was  tempo- 
rarily paralyzed. 

"Hello,  there,  Pussyfoot!     Where  are  you?" 
214 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   VIOLETS 

"She  call  me  the  Pussyfoot  all  time,"  explained 
Yama  with  a  grin,  "because  I  walk  so  soft.  She  great 
lady,  she  been  havia'  callers  all  time  since  she  came 
las'  night.  She  say  she  goin'  stay  a  week." 

"Not  if  I  know  it,"  I  remarked,  with  additions  as  I 
shook  my  fist  at  the  bedroom  door,  but  like  Yama, 
my  tones  were  low.  "You  tell  her  she  can't  stay  an 
hour — get  her  out  of  here  pretty  quick,  do  you  hear 
me?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  try." 

Then  I  dashed  out  into  the  hall  after  Florentine. 
Her  nose  was  tilted  at  a  slight  angle,  but  she  made  no 
comment  as  I  put  her  in  the  elevator. 

"Your  Cousin  Irene  is  a  lady  of  rather  luxurious 
tastes,"  she  observed  as  the  lift  touched  the  ground 
floor. 

"Don't  say  a  word  now,  Florentine,"  I  begged. 

I  escorted  her  to  the  door  and  from  somewhere,  I 
don't  know  just  how  I  managed  it,  I  got  a  hansom 
and  put  her  into  it. 

With  an  incoherent,  "I'll  be  back  soon,"  I  dashed 
back  into  the  house — providentially  the  clerk  was  not 
at  the  desk  or  I  might  have  added  real  murder  to  my 
crimes — and  upstairs  to  my  apartment  I  went  as  fast 
as  a  lift  can  raise  a  man.  Here  I  humbly  begged  ad- 
mittance at  the  kitchen  door,  for  I  was  still  in  my 
dress  suit  and  my  appearance  was  that  of  a  man  who 
had,  to  say  the  least,  been  out  all  night.  I  wanted  to 
fight,  but  I  had  to  take  it  out  in  asking  for  soap  and 
water,  for  Florentine  was  down  at  the  door  in  a  cab 
and  there  was  no  telling  what  would  occur  in  my 
absence. 

215 


THE  STAIRWAY   ON   THE   WALL 

Yama  brought  fresh  clothes  out  to  the  kitchen,  and 
shaving  water,  and  while  he  worked  he  chatted,  with 
various  savage  interjections  from  me.  There  wasn't 
much  to  tell  except  that  the  lady  arrived  late  the  night 
before  with  many  trunks  and  that  she  and  Yama  had 
been  unpacking  them  nearly  all  night.  During  the  in- 
tervals, between  trunks,  so  to  speak,  the  lady  had  en- 
livened the  apartment  with  song  and  from  time  to 
time,  as  callers  came  to  pay  their  respects,  Yama  had 
made  fresh  coffee.  "Much  coffee  and  cigarettes,"  he 
explained,  as  my  glance  took  in  the  trays  and  the 
debris  scattered  around  the  usually  spic-and-span 
kitchen. 

"Yama  busy  most  all  night,"  he  went  on  defen- 
sively ;  "she  stay  week,  but  Yama  not  stay  here  week ; 
if  she  stay,  Yama  go." 

"Don't  you  be  in  a  hurry,"  I  said.  "What  is  she 
doing  now?" 

The  clatter  of  a  coffee  cup  and  saucer  rattling  down 
upon  the  hard  wood  floor  of  my  bedroom  answered 
the  question. 

"After  she  drink,  she  threw  cup  and  saucer  out  of 
bed  on  floor,"  explained  Yama;  "she  spoil  two  rugs." 

I  hadn't  time  to  hear  more  for  Florentine  was 
waiting  down  in  the  hansom  and  my  appearance  now, 
while  not  quite  up  to  usual  form,  was  certainly  much 
improved. 

I  took  the  lift  and  dropped  to  the  ground  floor;  at 
the  desk  stood  the  clerk.  I  would  stop  a  second,  just 
long  enough  to  make  a  few  inquiries  about  my  violet 
house-guest,  and  then!  But,  before  I  reached  the 

216 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   VIOLETS 

desk,  a  fresh  surprise  greeted  me,  one  that  drove 
everything  else  out  of  my  mind. 

"A  lady  and  gentleman  to  see  you  in  the  reception 
room,"  said  the  hall  clerk. 

"A  lady  and  gentleman  to  see  me !"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  sir!" 

"When  did  they  arrive?" 

"A  minute  ago,  sir,  and  they  said  they'd  wait,  sir." 

Here  was  a  situation ! 

Out,  in  a  carriage  at  the  door,  sat  my  fiancee — in 
what  frame  of  mind  I  did  not  dare  to  guess. 

Upstairs,  in  my  bachelor  apartment,  was  an  un- 
named and  unmentionable  lady,  soaked  in  violet  and 
flirtatious  with  silk  lingerie. 

And,  in  the  reception  room,  awaiting  me,  just  from 
the  Baltic,  sat  a  lady  and  a  gentleman. 


217 


CHAPTER  XXII 

COUSIN  IRENE  AND  UNCLE  JASON 

THE  worst  had  come,  the  blow  had  fallen  and 
I  knew  it.     I  did  not  need  to  look  into  the 
reception-room  to  know  who  was  there.  Col- 
lecting my  scattered  senses,  I  walked  over  and  peeped 
in. 

There  they  were !  Upon  the  sofa,  with  her  bags 
and  bundles  methodically  arranged  around  her,  sat 
Irene !  And  by  her  side,  his  genial  face  aglow  with 
pleasurable  anticipation,  stood  Uncle  Jason. 

I  stepped  into  the  reception-room  and  held  out  my 
hand  to  them.  I  could  not  speak.  Uncle  Jason  grasped 
it  and  taking  my  silence  for  emotion,  he  shook  it  un- 
til the  tears  came  into  my  eyes.  As  for  Irene,  she  laid 
aside  her  handbag  and  arose,  and,  as  I  stooped  to 
greet  her,  she  planted  a  cousinly  kiss  on  my  face. 

"Well,  how  are  you — how  are  you!"  ejaculated 
Uncle  Jason,  "you're  an  early  bird  all  right.  But  it's 
none  too  early  to  see  the  sights  of  this  town.  Why, 
I've  been  out  and  looked  in  some  of  the  windows,  and 
I'll  bet  there's  more  bargains  in  London  than  in  any 
other  city  in  the  universe." 

"Father  went  bargain  hunting  while  I  stopped  in 
the  ladies'  writing-room  at  the  station  to  send  a  post- 
card to  the  Dorcas  Society,"  explained  Irene. 

"And  I  found  'em,  too,  and  as  soon  as  the  stores 

open " 

218 


COUSIN  IRENE  AND  UNCLE  JASON 

"And  I  must  send  a  post-card  to  the  Ladies'  Club 
of  Beverly,"  saiu  Irene. 

And  then  they  began  asking  me,  both  at  once,  how 
I  was,  how  I  had  been,  and  whether  I  liked  London, 
and  if  they  had  taken  me  by  surprise  coming  the 
way  they  did.  I  said  ''yes"  and  "no"  and  "all  right" 
to  everything,  and  while  I  answered  the  personal  cate- 
chism I  debated  what  I  would  do  with  them — and  with 
Florentine  out  in  the  hansom  at  the  door.  If  Floren- 
tine stood  this  ordeal  pleasantly,  I  was  reasonably 
sure  of  a  brick  of  a  wife. 

I  looked  at  Uncle  Jason ;  his  sturdy  form  clad  in  the 
serviceable  suit  of  a  wideawake  New  England  busi- 
ness man,  gave  me  confidence;  he  might  be  bald,  but 
his  round  pink  face  and  his  honest  blue  eyes  showed 
a  world  of  good  nature.  As  for  Irene !  I  must  con- 
fess that  Irene  was  a  problem,  but  I  would  tackle  it. 

"Come,"  I  said  to  Uncle  Jason,  when  we  had  talked 
enough,  "come  with  me,  I  want  to  tell  you  about  some- 
thing." 

"It's  a  bargain,  isn't  it?"  he  cried  delightedly,  pick- 
ing up  his  hat.  "You  stay  here,  Irene,  I'm  going  out 
for  bargains." 

"No,  it  isn't  a  bargain,"  I  said,  when  I  had  got  him 
out  into  the  hall,  "it  is  a  girl.  The  truth  of  it  is  that 
I'm  in  a  deuce  of  a  scrape  and,  well !  you've  got  to 
help  me  out  of  it.  Do  you  want  to  hear  all  about  it 
now  ?" 

"I'm  a  Yankee,"  replied  Uncle  Jason.  And  I  could 
see  the  curiosity  gleaming  in  his  eyes. 

"Well,  listen !"  I  said.  And  before  I  knew  it  I  had 
poured  into  his  ears  the  whole  tale  of  the  night  be- 

219 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

fore.  He  knew  of  my  contemplated  marriage  to  Flor- 
entine, of  how  Sir  Charles  had  tried  to  stop  it,  and 
how  we  had  had  to  fly  to  London  at  midnight. 

He  smiled  delightedly — bless  his  sympathetic  old 
heart — when  I  told  him  that  Florentine  was  out  in 
a  cab,  waiting  for  me  and  that  we  were  to  go  to 
her  Aunt  Faith's  house  to  be  married  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, for  I  thought  I  knew  a  way  to  get  Aunt  Faith 
over  to  our  side. 

He  was  all  attention  until  I  had  finished.  Then  he 
exclaimed,  with  a  hearty  clasp  of  the  hand : 

"I'm  with  you.  But,  by  George,  I'd  like  to  take  a 
fall  out  of  that  Sir  Charles." 

I  did  not  tell  him — a  thing  I  afterwards  deeply  re- 
gretted— the  whole  truth  about  Sir  Charles,  for  I  did 
not  mention  the  Hepworth  diamond,  nor  did  I  harrow 
his  soul  with  a  tale  of  Johnny,  the  Australian  Crook, 
my  double!  There  were  many  points  of  mystery, 
which  for  reasons  I  now  know  to  have  been  unwise, 
I  kept  to  myself. 

Nor  did  I  breathe  a  word  about  Lady  Kensington. 
I  did  not  want  my  uncle  to  know  that  I  had  acted  the 
part  of  a  gentleman  detective  at  the  wedding  reception 
the  night  before,  nor  for  the  world  would  I  have  told 
him  I  had  defected  my  trust,  even  to  save  a  girl  from 
a  marriage  that  was  utterly  loathsome  to  her. 

And,  at  best,  I  had  merely  promised  Lady  Hen- 
sington  that  I  would  watch  the  Hepworth  until  she 
could  get  someone  else. 

As  for  Florentine's  secret — her  family  disgrace — I 
came  as  near  to  it  as  I  dared  when  I  said : 

"Uncle  Jason,  would  you  marry  a  woman  whose — 
220 


COUSIN  IRENE  AND  UNCLE  JASON 

family  history — was  not  all  it  should  be — not  quite 
conventional  ?'' 

My  uncle's  reply  startled  me : 

"I  don't  know  what  I  would  do  myself,"  he  replied, 
with  a  New  England  wink,  "but  I  know  what  I'd  tell 
a  boy  of  mine  he  ought  to  do!  I'd  say,  'My  son,  try 
to  get  a  girl  who  is  good  enough  to  sit  down  at  the  table 
with  your  mother.  These  ladies  of  doubtful  creed 
are  all  right  for  wise  old  guys  like  your  father,  but 
you — my  boy — are  too  young  to  play  with  matches.' " 

"But  if  it  was  only  her — family — say  her  mother!" 

"She'd  come  calling,  and  then  it  would  be  Hell !" 
ejaculated  my  relative.  "You  can  be  damned  glad 
Florry's  an  orphan!  One  of  these  days  it'll  be  your 
Plymouth  Rock  duty  to  go  and  throttle  that  cousin  of 
hers.  If  it  is  money  he's  after — be  a  good  sport  and 
buy  him  off!" 

This  was  not  quite  the  answer  I  wanted,  but  I  had  to 
be  contented. 

"Never  mind  about  Sir  Charles !  The  thing  now 
is  for  you  and  Irene  to  stand  by  and  help." 

"We'll  do  it,  and  if  Aunt  Faith  makes  any  kick- 
up,  I'll  buy  her  the  best  brooch  in  London.  I  saw 
one  at  a  bargain  this  morning;  it  was  in  one  of  the 
windows  on  this  street." 

"Never  mind  bargains  nor  Aunt  Faith  now,"  I  an- 
swered, "but  think  of  Florentine,  poor  girl." 

"Is  she  pretty?"  asked  Uncle  Jason. 

I  tried  to  tell  him  how  very  pretty  she  was,  but 
words  failed  me. 

"I'll  take  a  look  at  her  myself,"  he  decided.  And, 
before  I  could  stop  him  he  was  out  at  the  cab  and  I 

221 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

was  introducing  him  to  Florentine  and  they  were  shak- 
ing hands  and  telling  each  other  how  very  pleasant  it 
was  to  know  each  other. 

''Go  and  bring  Irene,"  ordered  Uncle  Jason. 

I  wanted  to  tell  him  to  go  himself,  but  the  old  rascal 
had  climbed  into  the  hansom  and  was  busy  talking  to 
Florentine.  I  could  hear  him  asking  her  where  the 
best  bargains  could  be  found,  and  what  she  wanted  for 
a  wedding  present,  and  if  she  was  going  to  make  me 
behave  after  I  was  married;  and  Florentine  was  get- 
ting redder  and  redder,  but  enjoying  it  immensely.  It 
was  "Florry"  with  Uncle  Jason  right  away ! 

And  now  for  Irene. 

I  found  my  cousin  still  seated  on  the  sofa  in  the 
reception  room.  She  had  drawn  a  post-card  from  her 
Boston  bag  and,  with  the  help  of  the  bellboy,  was 
describing  London  to  the  Ladies'  Club  at  home.  I 
waited  until  they  had  finished,  then  my  cousin,  closing 
her  bag  with  a  snap  turned  to  me. 

"Put  down  your  bag,  Irene,"  I  begged.  "I  want  to 
talk  to  you." 

Reluctantly  she  let  it  go  out  of  her  grasp,  but  she 
still  kept  one  eye  on  it  as  it  lay  on  the  sofa  and  she 
might  as  well  have  held  it.  The  handbag  is  a  disease 
which  attacks  the  Boston  lady  with  great  virulence, 
and  I  verily  believe  the  Boston  lady  would  rest  more 
comfortably  in  her  coffin  if  she  had  her  Boston  bag 
in  her  hand.  Irene  moved  uneasily  and  picked  up  the 
bag  and  laid  it  in  her  lap.  Then  she  crossed  her 
hands  and  said: 

"Well?" 

The  lady  upstairs  was  like  a  nightmare  on  my  mind 

222 


COUSIN  IRENE  AND  UNCLE  JASON 

and  I  knew  that  something  must  be  done  before  Flor- 
entine saw  Irene.  I  looked  at  Irene ;  my  cousin  had 
sensibly  raised  her  skirt  in  front  to  keep  it  from  get- 
ting dusty  on  the  floor  and  her  two  capable  feet, 
broadly  displayed,  hinted  at  plenty  of  sole.  Irene 
liked  solid  things,  and  the  sofa  cushions  by  her  order 
had  been  removed  to  the  further  corner  of  the  couch. 
Sofa  pillows  are  a  great  comfort  or  a  great  nuisance; 
according  to  the  woman;  to  Irene  they  were  a  nui- 
sance. 

"Well?"  she  repeated,  straightening  her  rimless 
spectacles. 

"Irene,"  I  asked  suddenly  and  without  preparation, 
"do  you  like  violets?" 

"I  despise  them,"  answered  Irene.  "They  are  ener- 
vating and  a  sufficient  number  of  them  will  produce 
insomnia ;  they  should  never  be  tolerated  in  the  living 
or  sleeping-room.  Even  their  color  is  bad,  for  it  is 
well  known  that  the  violet  pigment  is  saturated  with  a 
fluid  which  acts  detrimentally  upon  the  optic  nerve. 
Applied  to  the  skin  it  is  still  worse,  for  it  is  an  irri- 
tant." 

"Irene,"  I  pleaded,  "would  you  do  something  to 
please  me?" 

Irene  hesitated;  the  Boston  lady  does  not  like  to 
commit  herself. 

"Irene,"  I  went  on  so  earnestly  that  my  voice 
shook,  "will  you  say  that  you  like  violets  and  that 
you  do  love  violet  color — even  if  you  don't?" 

"But,  my  dear  Roman !" 

"Never  mind,  Irene,  don't  ask  me  why.  But  I'm 
going  to  buy  you  some  violet  silk  lingerie  and  I  want 

223 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

you  to  pack  it  in  your  suit  case,  plenty  of  it  so  it  sticks 
out,  falls  out,  protrudes,  cascades,  anything,  just  so — 
somebody — I  mean  everybody  will  think  that  you  do 
wear  violet  lingerie." 

"Roman !" 

Irene  looked  at  me  so  suspiciously  that  I  felt  sorry 
for  her.  Once  upon  a  time  a  relative  of  ours  went 
suddenly  insane  and  had  to  be  taken  to  the  asylum. 
She  was  only  a  half-sister  of  Irene's  step-grand- 
mother and  the  insanity  was  of  the  harmless  order. 
But  I  know  that  Irene  was  thinking  of  her  as  she  sat 
there  on  the  couch,  staring  at  me.  As  for  me  I  dis- 
covered that  I  was  kneeling  on  a  cushion  at  her  feet. 

"Do  you  care  for  me,  Irene,  and  do  you  want  to 
make  me  happy?" 

Irene's  brow  cleared;  she  understood  now,  and  it 
was  not  insanity!  But  she  wanted  the  matter  settled 
and  as  soon  as  possible.  Her  lips  tightened. 

"Cousin  Roman,"  she  said  severely,  though  in  the 
half -gratified  cadence  which  a  woman  always  has  on 
tap  for  such  a  moment.  "Cousin  Roman,  this  is  the 
third  time!  And,  as  on  each  previous  occcasion,  I 
must  say  no.  You  proposed  to  me  once  when  we 
were  nine,  and  again  when  we  were  thirteen,  but  I  had 
to  tell  you  that  I  could  not  marry  you,  and  again  I 
repeat  it,  no!" 

"Thank  you,  Irene,  or  no,  I  mean,  yes!  But  the 
violet  lingerie,  may  I  buy  it  for  you  ?" 

"How  highly  improper!" 

Tossing  her  head  and  gathering  up  her  bags  and 
baggage  my  cousin  Irene  swept  out  of  the  reception- 
room  and  out  of  the  door  to  where  Uncle  Jason  and 

224 


COUSIN  IRENE  AND  UNCLE  JASON 

Florentine  still  sat  in  the  cab,  chatting  together  and 
laughing  in  a  way  to  scandalize  the  neighborhood  at 
that  hour  of  the  morning. 

"Say,  Irene — please,  Irene,"  I  gasped,  clutching  her 
gown. 

She  turned  and  for  the  first  time  she  saw  me  by 
daylight.  Something  in  my  forlorn  appearance  must 
have  appealed  to  her,  for  she  stopped  and  let  me  speak 
to  her.  She  would  never  tell  me  what  I  said  nor  how 
I  said  it,  but  when  I  had  finished  Cousin  Irene  under- 
stood that  I  was  engaged  to  be  married  and  that  the 
girl  of  girls  was  the  one  in  the  cab. 

"And  Irene,  do  say  you  like  violets,"  I  concluded. 
Whether  Irene  began  to  tumble  or  not,  I  don't  know; 
but  she  was  her  father's  daughter,  and  there  was  a 
wise  look  in  her  spectacled  eyes  as  I  introduced  her  to 
Florentine.  Then  she  got  into  another  hansom  with 
me  and  she  let  me  buy  her  a  tiny  little  bunch  of  vio- 
lets no  bigger  than  a  cork.  For  Florentine  I  got  a 
bunch  of  lilies  of  the  valley  that  emptied  the  florist's 
stall. 

Uncle  Jason  had  wheedled  Florentine  into  saying 
that  she  was  hungry  and  the  two  hansoms  rolled  over 
to  the  Cecil  where  we  all  got  out  for  breakfast.  It 
was  Uncle  Jason's  breakfast  and  we  sat  down  to  a 
feast  that  for  bounty  could  not  have  been  beaten  in 
the  feudal  days.  To  Uncle  Jason's  regret  there  was 
no  fried  mush  nor  doughnuts,  but  he  smothered  his 
discontent  when  Florentine  declared  that  she  could 
not  have  eaten  any  if  there  had  been  a  platter  of  them. 
Once  or  twice  during  the  breakfast  the  conversation 

225 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

approached  dangerously  near  to  forbidden  topics,  as 
when  Irene  said: 

"In  what  color  is  your  bedroom  furnished,  Cousin 
Roman?  I  brought  a  brush  broom  holder  from  home 
and  it  is  pink " 

"It  goes  charmingly  with  violet  as  you  know, 
Irene,"  I  said  with  a  telling  glance. 

"But  your  room,  is  it  a  violet  room?" 

"You  know  perfectly  well  it  is  violet,"  I  replied. 
And  this  time  I  stepped  on  her  foot  so  violently  that 
Irene  said,  "Yes,  of  course !" 

I  knew  at  once  that  I  ought  to  have  informed  Irene 
that  she  was  supposed  to  have  occupied  my  apartment 
the  night  before. 

But  wrhen  I  saw  my  cousin's  clear  cut  ways  and  her 
sensible  tailor-made  clothes,  I  knew  the  futility  of  it. 
The  frou  frou  of  violet  petticoats,  the  billowing  laces, 
the  portierre  of  waving  hosiery  and  the  countless 
yards  of  silken  string  were  all  too  much  at  variance 
with  my  cousin's  external  severity  to  be  reconcilable. 
Yet  I  grasped  at  a  wisp. 

"You  know  my  room  is  violet,"  I  repeated. 

And  Florentine,  wise  little  girl,  took  no  notice. 

The  two  young  women  had  taken  to  each  other  at 
once  as  opposite  currents  attract. 

Florentine,  beautiful,  high  strung  and  romantic,  pos- 
sessed a  magnetism  for  Irene,  capable,  pushing  and 
practical.  There  was  a  mutual  admiration,  and,  as 
they  conversed,  each  was  unconsciously  taking  a  leaf 
from  the  life  book  of  the  other.  If  only  I  could  keep 
them  from  comparing  notes  until  I  could  see  Irene 
alone. 

226 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  MISSING  HEIRLOOM 

ATTER  breakfast  Irene  and  Uncle  Jason  left  us ; 
Uncle  Jason  said  we  ought  to  be  alone  awhile 
to  plan,  but  before  he  went  away  my  Uncle  put 
down  in  his  memorandum  book  the  full  name  and  ad- 
dress of  Aunt  Faith  with  a  little  diagram  of  how  to 
reach  her  house  by  the  most  direct  route. 

I  promised  when  we  had  finished  our  conversation 
to  put  Florentine  in  a  cab  and  send  her  to  Aunt  Faith's, 
for  it  wasn't  strictly  according  to  propriety,  Irene  said, 
to  run  off  and  leave  us  in  this  manner. 

But  Cousin  Irene,  later,  did  permit,  and  force  her- 
self to  admit  that  circumstances  did  alter  cases,  as 
when  she  herself,  ignoring  the  proprieties,  went  all 
alone  to  buy  a  winter  overcoat  for  the  minister  the 
day  the  married  ladies  were  all  too  busy  to  go — yet  it 
was  a  deed  that  might  have  created  talk ! 

So  we  sat  there,  Florentine  and  I,  in  the  little  break- 
fast room  of  the  Cecil,  and  the  dear  girl  let  me  light 
a  cigarette  which  I  sadly  needed  as  a  nerve  soother. 
I  smoked  while  she  sat  and  watched  me. 

We  tried  to  seem  care-free,  but  there  hovered  over 
us  the  shadow  of  a  nameless  dread, — a  thing  of  which 
we  did  not  dare  to  speak ;  but  I  saw  it  in  her  eyes  and 
she  beheld  it  mirrored  in  mine.  The  day  was  here 
but  we  knew  that  it  would  bring  trouble  to  us,  though 
how  swift  we  did  not  then  foresee. 

227 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

At  her  side  rested  the  satchel  which  she  had  never 
allowed  to  get  out  of  her  sight  one  instant.  I  was 
bound  to  be  cheerful  as  long  as  I  could,  so  I  exclaimed 
as  her  eyes  wandered  toward  it  anxiously  for  the 
thousandth  time: 

"Now  tell  me  what  is  in  that  precious  satchel?" 

Florentine  blushed. 

"I'm  dying  of  curiosity,"  I  pleaded. 

"It  is  a  gown !" 

The  satchel  was  small  and  my  legal  aptitude  for 
logic  told  me  that  it  must  be  a  dress  that  could  be  com- 
pactly folded.  I  sat  stirring  a  cup  of  after-breakfast 
Bohea  and  thinking;  I  drained  the  cup  and  inverted  it 
over  the  saucer  and  revolved  it  three  times  as  I  had 
seen  a  soothsayer  do  at  Coney  Island. 

"Suppose,  when  I  turn  this  cup,  that  the  tea  leaves 
tell  me  it  is  a  traveling  dress,"  I  hazarded,  "would  they 
be  correct?" 

"Ye-es,"  admitted  Florentine,  "I  had  no  gown  at 
Aunt  Faith's  that  would  be  suitable,  so  I  brought  one 
along." 

As  this  was  the  first  intimation  I  had  had  that  a 
traveling  dress  was  really  on  the  schedule,  it  was  hi- 
larious news  indeed. 

It  was  a  good  thing  that  the  breakfast  room  at  the 
Cecil  was  dim,  and  that  the  waiter,  having  got  Uncle 
Jason's  tip,  American  size,  had  gone  away,  for  I 
reached  right  over  the  table  and  squeezed  her  hands 
and  held  them  fast  until  she  begged  for  them. 

"And  that  reminds  me,"  said  Florentine,  "of  my 
ring." 

"Your  ring,  sweetheart?" 
228 


THE    MISSING    HEIRLOOM 

"My  mother's  ring;  it  was  to  be  my  wedding  ring!" 
Her  face  flushed  painfully. 

"Where  is  it  and  must  I  leave  you  to  go  and  get  it?" 
I  hastened  to  say. 

"I  dropped  it  last  night  at  Lady  Kensington's,  but 
I  know  where  it  fell ;  it  rolled  under  the  big  palm  in 
the  front  drawing-room,  where  I  stood  looking  for 
you.  I  wear  it  always  by  a  gold  cord  around  my  neck 
as  a  talisman, — a  symbol  of  what  I  supposed — but  last 
night  the  cord  snapped " 

"It  shall  be  a  symbol  of  a  perfectly  rounded  life  to- 
g^ther !" 

"I  think,"  she  added  with  a  touch  of  sentiment, 
"that  the  cord  must  have  parted  just  at  the  very  mo- 
ment I  saw  you." 

I  am  not  going  to  describe  my  sentiments,  nor  to 
record  what  I  said,  but  I  went  quite  off  my  head. 
There  was  about  Florentine  none  of  the  arrogance  that 
goes  with  great  beauty;  she  did  not  have  that  snob- 
bishness that  leaves  a  woman's  face  so  pitifully  plain 
when  beauty  has  fled.  But  the  attitude  of  trying  to 
charm  was  new  to  me.  Observation,  aided  by  the 
classics,  had  taught  me  that,  if  a  woman  likes  a  man, 
it  is  part  of  the  feminine  campaign  to  make  him  think 
that  she  does  not;  she  treats  him  like  a  dog.  What 
wonder,  say  I,  if  he  turns  out  to  be  a  brute ! 

The  clock  hands  were  rolling  round  and  the  break- 
fast room  was  filling. 

"Nine  o'clock!"  I  exclaimed,  "it  is  too  early  for 
Aunt  Faith's  household  to  be  astir." 

Florentine  said  no,  so  I  took  her  out  and  put  her  in 
a  cab,  waving  an  adieu,  as  she  drove  off  for  Aunt 

229 


Faith's  abode.  We  had  left  the  dear  old  lady  at  the 
Castle  the  night  before,  but  I  knew  that  she  would 
return  to  her  own  domicile  as  soon  as  possible,  for  the 
society  of  Sir  Charles  at  the  Castle  would  be  none  too 
agreeable  to  her. 

Sir  Charles!  My  last  view  of  him  at  the  window 
still  sent  a  shiver  through  me  as  I  recalled  his  sus- 
picious, terror-struck  face,  lighted  by  the  glare  of  the 
room  behind  him. 

And  now  for  Lady  Kensington.  And  here  I  must 
confess  I  had  my  misgivings  as  well  as  my  qualms  of 
conscience.  How  had  that  lady  fared  and  how  would 
she  greet  me  after  my  desertion  of  last  night?  I 
wanted  to  be  perfectly  fair  with  her  and  I  did  not  in- 
tend to  spare  myself,  but  there  were  certain  clauses  in 
our  contract  of  which  I  intended  to  remind  her  if 
necessary. 

I  drove  around  to  Grosvenor  Square  and  alighted  in 
front  of  her  door.  The  vestibule  stood  wide  open  and 
doormen  and  draymen  were  busy  bringing  out  cases. 
I  knew  these  to  be  the  wedding  presents  which,  having 
done  duty  the  night  before,  were  now  to  be  shipped 
to  the  ancestral  palace  of  the  ducal  son-in-law,  in 
Italy.  They  were  of  all  sizes  and  shapes,  for  Lady 
Kensington  had  been  buying  up  treasure  chests  for 
weeks. 

"They  look  so  imposing,"  she  had  explained  to  me 
when  I  asked  her  why  she  had  nine  Spanish  coffer 
boxes. 

I  made  my  way  past  the  treasure  chests  and  through 
the  front  door  and  into  the  drawing-room.  To  my 

230 


surprise,  I  found  Lady  Hensington  there  and  waiting 
for  me. 

"I  have  sent  to  your  apartment  six  times  since 
seven  o'clock,"  she  said,  glaring  at  me,  "and  now  you 
may  tell  me  where  you  went  when  you  disappeared 
last  night  and  where  you  have  been  this  morning." 

I  muttered  some  feeble  apology. 

Lady  Hensington  broke  forth.  Her  speech  was 
rather  mixed,  but  the  clearly-to-be-understood  thing 
was  that  I  was  no  gentleman.  I  had  gone  away  with- 
out paying  my  respects  to  her ;  I  had  sent  an  impudent 
man  from  Scotland  Yard  to  watch  the  wedding  pres- 
ents, and  she  had  discharged  him  and — well — a  tur- 
quoise brooch,  set  in  filigree,  had  been  stolen. 

"Anything  else?"  I  asked. 

Lady  Hensington  glared  at  me. 

"Was  the  diamond  all  right  ?"  I  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  her  astonishing  reply.  "I  was 
so  disturbed  that  I  didn't  examine  it,  but  the  Scotland 
Yard  man  handed  me  the  velvet  box  which  contained 
it  and  I  locked  it  away  in  my  private  treasure  box 
early  this  morning." 

"Then  it  is  safe,"  I  observed  with  relief. 

"Small  thanks  to  you,"  sniffed  she.  "What  have 
you  got  to  say  for  yourself?"  she  inquired,  after  an 
awkward  pause. 

At  this  instant  I  chanced  to  glance  down  at  the  car- 
pet and  there  under  the  palm — just  where  she  had 
dropped  it — lay  Florentine's  ring — her  mother's  wed- 
ding ring,  the  ring  that  was  to  be  our  ring! 

"Nothing,"  I  said. 

Lady  Hensington  rose,  the  fire  flashing  from  her 
231 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE    WALL 

eyes.  I  rose,  too,  but  I  kept  my  gaze  on  Florentine's 
ring.  I  wanted  to  stoop  and  pick  it  up  but  Lady 
Kensington  advanced  a  step  toward  me  and  I  did  not 
dare. 

"I  ought  to  have  you  arrested,  Roman  Elliott,"  she 
said  threateningly. 

"Don't  do  it,  Lady  Hensington,"  I  begged. 

"I  would  if  it  were  not  for  the  memory  of  your 
father." 

Lady  Hensington  advanced  another  step,  her  voice 
rising  and  her  eyes  snapping. 

"Father's  shoes  would  be  rather  too  large  for  me 
so  I  never  try  them  on,"  I  retorted  with  spirit. 

Florentine's  ring  was  almost  under  her  foot.  Would 
I  dare  to  stoop  and  pick  it  up  or  was  it  unsafe  to 
bend  over  and  expose  myself  in  that  defenseless  posi- 
tion at  such  a  time?  I  gave  the  ring  a  kick,  bent  stra- 
tegetically  and  got  it  and  put  it  safely  in  my  vest 
pocket. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  that  turquoise 
brooch?"  she  demanded.  "I've  asked  you  three  times 
and  you  haven't  heard  me." 

"Bwy  another,"  I  suggested. 

"I've  thought  of  that,"  she  declared,  "but  it  is 
from  the  De  Chambrey  family,  and  it's  an  heirloom ; 
was  stolen  from  the  palace  in  Venice,  1310,  I  believe, 
and  recovered  in  eighteen  hundred  and  something  in 
Naples." 

"Well,  tell  them  it  was  stolen  from  this  palace  on 
Grosvenor  Square  in  1900  and  something — and  you 
don't  know  when  it  will  be  recovered."  I  spoke 
sharply,  for  old  turquoise  brooches  set  in  filigree  went 

232 


THE    MISSING    HEIRLOOM 

pale  compared  to  two  turquoise  eyes  framed  in  glory. 

"Roman,   you   are   impossible,"    declared   Madame, 

"and  since  you  are  of  no  use  to  me,  you  may  as  well 

go." 

I  picked  up  my  hat,  cautiously  keeping  out  of  her 
way.  Perhaps  I  did  her  breeding  an  injustice,  but  her 
foot  looked  menacing. 

"By-the-by,"  she  said,  "they  tell  me  that  a  man  came 
here  last  night,  or  rather,  he  came  this  morning,  just 
as  the  guests  were  leaving,  and  that  he  was  the  image 
of  you.  The  doorman  let  him  pass  for  you.  He  went 
up  to  see  the  wedding  presents,  and  afterwards,  went 
out  to  supper.'* 

"Perhaps  it  might  have  been  I,"  I  said  foolishly 
enough. 

"Oh,  he  cut  his  oysters  in  half,  put  sugar  in  his 
claret  and  ate  two  plates  of  soup,"  said  Lady  Ken- 
sington conclusively. 

"Perhaps  then,  he  is  the  man  who  stole  the  turquoise 
brooch,"  I  replied  as  I  backed  into  the  hall. 

Lady  Kensington  gasped ! 

Here  I  thought  it  a  good  time  to  go  before  she 
recovered ;  so  I  said  my  au  revoirs  and  departed,  prom- 
ising to  call  again  that  afternoon. 

The  butler,  perhaps  at  a  signal  from  Lady  Kensing- 
ton and  perhaps  by  accident,  slammed  the  front  door 
behind  me  and  I  stood  upon  the  front  steps,  persona 
nan  grata  in  the  house  of  my  client. 

In  my  anger  I  almost  wished  that  I  had  not  come  to 
London.  I  might  have  been  at  home,  motor  free  and 
soul  satisfied  with  the  other  members  of  the  law 
firm  of  Bunnestead,  \Yorthington  &  Co.,  instead  of 

233 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

standing  here  crushed  figuratively;  it  was  because  I 
was  too  obliging  that  this  humiliation  had  come  upon 
me.  I  could  have  sent  one  of  my  partners  to  London. 
There  was  Bunnestead.  He  might  have  come  over 
himself  to  help  Lady  Kensington  with  the  settlements, 
for  she  was  afraid  of  the  English  lawyers.  But,  no, 
Bunnestead  had  retired  twenty  years  ago  at  the  age  of 
sixty-five  to  die  of  old  age  at  his  country  seat  up  the 
Hudson.  I  had  seen  him  but  once  since  I  joined  the 
firm  ten  years  before.  Then  it  was  with  regard  to 
putting  my  name  on  the  firm  stationery  that  I  took 
the  pilgrimage  up  the  Hudson. 

Eloquently  I  had  laid  the  case  before  him ;  "I  can't 
do  it,  my  boy,"  he  had  replied.  "You  will  have  to  be 
the  'Co.'  until  I  die." 

When  I  pressed  him  to  tell  me  why  I  must  wait  un- 
til the  coming  of  so  sad  and  so  distant  an  event,  he 
leaned  forward  and  winked  at  me. 

"Because  the  firm  name  would  be  too  long  to  go  on 
one  line  in  the  telephone  directory,"  he  said  in  a 
shrewd  whisper. 

So  it  was  for  alphabetical  reasons  that  I  could  not 
add  my  name  to  Bunnestead  and  Worthington. 

But  there  was  old  Worthington.  Why  couldn't  he 
have  come  over  upon  the  dubious  knight-errantry  of 
keeping  a  few  of  Lady  Kensington's  stars  and  garters 
from  falling  into  the  hands  of  her  daughter's  marquis? 
He  at  least  would  not  have  fallen  in  love,  being  now 
seventy-one.  But  a  whimsical  picture  of  Worthing- 
ton at  his  desk  tore  across  my  vision ;  Worthington 
who  came  down  at  eleven  each  morning,  and  whose 
daughter,  a  maiden  of  fifty,  brought  him  his  luncheon 

234 


THE    MISSING    HEIRLOOM 

each  day  at  twelve.  At  two  Miss  Worthington  had 
always — since  the  office  cat  could  remember — come 
down  to  get  the  napkin  in  which  she  brought  her 
father  two  crackers  and  a  lump  of  cheese.  And  while 
Miss  Worthington  was  folding  up  the  napkin  and 
showing  the  cat  where  to  find  the  crumb,  old  Wor- 
thington would  go  down  and  climb  into  the  boat- 
shaped  old  Victoria. 

It  was  evident  that  I  was  predestined  to  come.  And 
when  I  thought  of  the  Honorable  Florentine  Hadley 
I  wanted  to  thank  Fate. 

So  my  double  had  been  there,  but  at  what  hour? 
And  how  long  it  was  after  I  had  seen  him  skulking  in 
the  woods  around  the  Castle  I  could  not  tell !  My  fore- 
boding became  a  heavy  cloud  that  darkened  my  spirits. 
There  had  been  mischief  afloat  the  extent  of  which  I 
did  not  know. 

My  impulse  was  to  return  to  Lady  Kensington  and 
get  further  particulars  from  her  regarding  the  tur- 
quoise brooch — and  to  make  sure  that  nothing  else  had 
been  stolen  by  my  double.  But  her  offended  manner 
told  me  that  she  was  in  no  mood  to  talk  to  me. 


235 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  VIOLET  LADY  AGAIN 

MY  cab  was  at  the  front  door  and  I  -felt  that 
now,  as  a  Christian  duty,  I  must  go  to  the 
apartment  house  and  straighten  matters  out 
at  my  flat  before  going  to  Lady  Faith's  decorous 
abode;  but  I  shuddered,  even  as  I  trembled  and  won- 
dered, when  I  thought  of  the  violet  sachet  and  my  vio- 
let bestrewn  parlor. 

Never  put  off  until  to-morrow  what  you  can  just 
as  well  do  to-day;  that  is  a  maxim  that  originated  in 
Boston,  and  it  is  used  at  housecleaning  time. 

I  would  return  to  my  apartment  at  once. 

I  gave  the  coachman  the  direction  and  settled 
back ;  the  cushions  were  soft  and  I  know  I  fell  asleep 
for  my  next  consciousness  was  that  I  was  being  vio- 
lently shaken  by  the  arm.  I  opened  my  eyes  and 
came  gradually  back  to  the  present.  As  £  recovered 
myself  I  saw  that  the  cab  stood  in  front  of  my  own 
door,  and  on  the  sidewalk,  in  a  group,  were  the  night 
clerk,  the  day  clerk  and  the  manager,  all  talking  ex- 
citedly. 

I  stepped  out  and  they  followed  me  inside,  still 
in  conversation.  My  head  was  confused  by  the  few 
minutes  of  sleep,  but  amid  the  voices  I  caught  the 
humble  apology  of  the  manager.  He  had  been  away, 
and  in  his  absence  a  lady  had  come  and  asked  for  my 
keys.  As  she  had  represented  herself  to  be  my  sister 

236 


THE   VIOLET  LADY  AGAIN 

the  night  clerk  had  given  them  to  her,  and,  of  course, 
it  was  all  a  mistake,  for  the  lady  was  the  sister  of 
the  former  occupant  of  the  apartment,  who  had  re- 
cently sub-let  the  rooms  to  me,  and  ought  not  to  have 
been  there  at  all !  Would  I  be  kind  enough  to  over- 
look the  error  as  the  lady  had  departed  and  as  it  was 
a  rather  excusable  blunder. 

"Inexcusable,  you  mean,"  I  said  bluntly. 

"Perhaps !"  agreed  the  manager.  "But,"  as  he  again 
explained,  "the  lady  had  insisted  upon  going  to  her 
brother's  apartment,  and  since  she  was  a  light  opera 
star  of  so  much  note — and  afraid  of  the  London  fog 
— it  had  seemed  best  to  give  her  the  keys.  It  was  at 
that  late  hour  when  ladies  do  not  like  to  hunt  for 
lodgings ;  and  she  had  been  rather  insistent  in  the  mat- 
ter of  gaining  admittance." 

After  I  had  grudgingly  forgiven  everybody,  the 
manager  took  me  aside  and  whispered  the  lady's  name 
to  me.  He  was  right,  I  agreed,  and  it  would  have 
been  wrong  to  turn  so  prominent  a  personage  out  in 
a  drizzling  London  midnight,  for  I  recognized  that  my 
little  flat  had  had  the  honor  of  sheltering  one  of  the 
most  noted  songbirds  of  the  variety  stage.  She  had 
arrived  on  the  Baltic  only  the  night  before  for  a  six 
weeks'  season  in  London,  and,  of  course,  the  London 
vaudeville  stars  had  come  at  midnight,  after  the  show 
was  over,  to  welcome  her  to  their  shores.  It  was  all 
quite  simple  now. 

But  the  manager  was  distressed  because  Yama  had 
told  them  of  my  hasty  visit  home  and  my  hurried 
departure.  And  the  fact  that  I  was  asleep  in  the  cab 
in  front  of  the  door  simply  went  to  show  that  I  pre- 
237 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

ferred  the  hospitality  of  the  cab  to  that  of  my  own 
flat,  under  the  circumstances. 

"Sorry  you  had  to  sleep  in  the  cab,  sir,"  said  the 
manager  for  the  tenth  time.  And  for  the  tenth  time 
I  assured  him  that  it  didn't  make  a  damn's  difference 
now. 

I  got  into  the  lift  and  went  up  to  my  apartment, 
and,  touching  the  bell,  I  waited  for  Yama  to  open 
the  door,  which  he  did  slowly  and  at  nose  width  only. 

"Open  the  door,"  I  exclaimed. 

Yama  cracked  it  gingerly  and  I  stepped  in.  Imme- 
diately he  closed  it  behind  me,  the  windows  of  the 
room  were  shut  and  the  atmosphere  was  stifling  with 
violet. 

"Open  the  windows,"  I  ordered,  "and  air  this 
room." 

Yama  shook  his  head  violently.  "Keep  sweet  smell 
in,"  he  said.  "If  you  let  window  up  sweet  smells  all 
fly  out." 

"Never  mind  if  the  sweet  smell  does  fly  out,"  I  re- 
torted, tossing  up  the  shades  and  throwing  the  win- 
dows wide  open.  "Phew!  But  it  is  strong  here!" 

Yama  protested,  but  to  no  avail.  I  aired  the  room 
and  looked  about  for  any  remaining  traces  of  the  lady 
of  the  violets.  I  afterwards  learned  that  she  had  left 
a  long,  pale  violet,  silk  opera  stocking  behind,  hip 
length  and  suitable  for  the  ballet,  and  Yama,  finding 
it,  had  taken  possession  of  it.  When  I  discovered  it, 
it  was  strapped  to  the  outside  of  my  dress  suit  case, 
for  Yama,  recognizing  its  fitness  as  an  umbrella  cover, 
had  slipped  my  silk  umbrella  and  two  walking  sticks 
into  it.  I  did  not  see  it  until — well,  too  late  to  prevent 

238 


THE   VIOLET  LADY  AGAIN 

the  catastrophe !  All  seemed  clear  of  violet  as  far  as 
visible  evidence  was  concerned. 

While  we  were  airing  the  parlor,  there  came  a  tre- 
mendous thumping  at  the  door.  I  opened  it  myself, 
and  in  the  hall  stood  a  violet  vision  that  fairly  knocked 
my  eyes  out.  In  her  hand  was  an  ivory  headed  para- 
sol, which  she  had  used  as  a  door  rapper. 

"It  is  her;  the  lady  who  sleeps  in  your  bedroom," 
whispered  Yama,  getting  behind  the  door  so  that  he 
could  hear  all  that  went  on  without  being  seen. 

The  vision  smiled  serenely  and  there  was  a  wonder- 
ful frou  f rou  of  violets  as  she  let  down  her  train. 

"I  came  to  see  you,  to  call  on  you,"  she  said  with  a 
telling  glance,  "in  order  to  apologize.  The  manager 
put  me  in  the  wrong  apartment,  and  when  he  discov- 
ered his  mistake  early  this  morning,  he  moved  me  to 
another,  and  now  I'm  off  to  find  something  better." 

I  bowed  stiffly,  but  she  took  no  notice  of  any  lack 
of  cordiality. 

"No,  I  won't  stop  this  morning,"  she  went  on 
sweetly.  "Some  other  time,  but  if  you  find  a  long 
violet  silk  stocking,  opera  length,  comes  right  to  the 
hip," — indicating  its  length  by  a  slight  gesture  of 
hand  and  foot, — "you  can  send  it  to  me.  Unless " 

I  glared  at  her  but  she  smiled  archly,  "unless  you 
would  like  to  keep  it  as  a  souvenir  of — of  the  visit." 

She  picked  up  the  yard  of  violet  silk  train  which 
lay  upon  the  floor  of  the  marble  hall,  and  pirouetted 
on  one  dainty  French  heel. 

"If  any  of  your  baggage  is  left  behind  it  will  be  sent 
to  you,"  I  growled. 

"Well,  good-bye ;  say  so-long  to  Pussyfoot  for  me." 
239 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

And  away  she  went  down  the  hall,  her  French  heels 
tap-tapping  as  she  walked. 

I  closed  the  door  abruptly  and  turned  to  find  Yama 
squatting  behind  it  like  a  Japanese  monkey.  I 
frowned  at  him,  but  he  had  his  eyes  closed  and  his 
nose  in  the  air,  taking  ecstactic  sniffs  of  the  fresh 
waves  of  violet. 

"Get  up,"  I  ordered,  "and  pack  a  trunk  and  a  suit- 
case, and  put  everything  in  for  a  month." 

"Yama  go  along?"  he  asked. 

I  told  him  that  he  was  not  to  go,  and  I  added  a  few 
other  remarks,  wholly  unnecessary — for  he  was  not  to 
blame — but  I  was  put  out  by  the  violets. 

And  now  for  Aunt  Faith.  The  dear  lady  had  un- 
doubtedly returned  from  the  Castle,  and  I  would  be 
in  time  for  eleven  o'clock  tea  and  would  see  Flor- 
entine. So  it  was  with  delightful  anticipations  that  I 
stepped  into  the  cab  and  gave  Lady  Faith's  address 
to  the  driver.  The  morning  was  clearing. 

But  on  the  way  I  signaled  him  to  stop  at  a  shop, 
for  I  wanted  to  give  Florentine  a  solitaire  which  would 
tell  her  that  I  valued  her  love  as  highly  as  a  Bond 
Street  jeweler  could  suggest,  and  I  wished  to  put  on 
her  hand  a  ring  whose  flashing  sign  would  speak  the 
words  I  was  too  dull-witted  to  utter. 

I  picked  out  the  diamond  to  the  joy  of  the  Bond 
Street  dealer,  and,  with  the  token  tucked  in  what  the 
lady-who-loves-me  calls  my  heart  pocket,  I  drove  to 
the  home  of  Lady  Faith,  and  up  the  front  steps  I 
bounded  in  two  leaps.  The  footman  let  me  in  and 
I  stepped  into  the  prim  gold-and-white  drawing-room 
sacred  to  Aunt  Faith  and  the  memory  of  the  Prince 

240 


THE   VIOLET  LADY  AGAIN 

of  Wales.  I  had  time  to  observe  it  all  now;  his  por- 
trait hung  over  the  mantel  and  there  were  innumerable 
pictures  of  the  royal  family  scattered  about.  The 
house  in  the  daytime  looked  even  more  devoted  to 
royalism  than  at  night. 

I  had  only  a  few  minutes  to  wait  in  the  drawing- 
room  before  Florentine  appeared,  and  without  delay 
I  gave  her  the  ring.  I  suppose  there  have  been  other 
engagement  rings  in  the  world,  but  none  I  am  sure 
like  this,  for  it  was  Florentine's  ring  and  mine ! 

If  there  are  critical  moments  in  life,  crucial  mo- 
ments, this  is  one,  the  moment  of  the  giving  of  the 
ring;  for  the  happiness  of  a  couple's  whole  future 
life  depends  upon  the  way  this  ring  passes  from  hand 
to  hand.  Florentine  took  it  and  put  it  on  and  said 
just  the  right  thing.  Then  she  looked  into  its  spark- 
ling depths  with  wonder,  but  when  I  asked  her  what 
she  saw,  she  would  not  tell  me.  But  she  said  she 
understood  now  why  the  diamond  is  called  a  pre- 
cious stone. 

"I  found  the  wedding  ring,"  I  added. 

A  sunbeam  brighter  than  the  diamond  darted  into 
the  little  gilt  drawing-room  and  rested  upon  her  hair, 
that  lovely  silver  hair  which  had  become  tangled  into 
the  woof  of  my  existence  like  silver  threads  caught  in 
a  fabric  of  dull  grey.  The  sunbeam  flashed  upon  the 
diamond  and  Florentine  said  it  was  an  omen. 

At  the  same  time  she  put  her  finger  to  her  lip  and 
lifted  it  with  a  dear  little  gesture  and  a  sidewise  move- 
ment of  her  head: 

"Listen !"  she  exclaimed. 


241 


CHAPTER  XXV 

UNCLE  JASON  PLAYS  ALADDIN 

I    LISTEN  ED  and  heard  that  which   I   had  not 
noticed  before,  a  low  hum  of  voices;  they  is- 
sued from  the  tiny  reception  room  across  the 
hall ;  one  was  very  soft  and  sweet,  low  and  well  modu- 
lated; the  other  brusque  but  kind,  hearty,  round  and 
satisfied. 

Florentine's  smile  deepened  until  a  roguish  dimple 
sat  in  each  cheek. 

"It  is  Aunt  Faith  and  your  Uncle  Jason,"  said  she. 

"Uncle  Jason!    How  did  he  get  here?"  I  exclaimed. 

"He  came  almost  directly,"  explained  Florentine. 
"He  said  he  was  looking  for  a  bargain  in  real  estate 
in  this  neighborhood,  and,  finding  himself  so  near 
here,  he  thought  he  would  drop  in  to  make  us  a  morn- 
ing call." 

"And  Aunt  Faith?"  I  questioned  with  some  mis- 
givings. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Faith  liked  him  immensely ;  I  never  saw 
her  so  taken  with  anyone.  She  was  just  getting  out  of 
her  carriage  as  he  reached  the  front  steps,  and  when 
he  saw  her  he  went  down  and  insisted  upon  helping 
her.  It  was  most  fortunate,  for  the  carriage  step 
was  wet  and  Aunt  Faith  slipped  and  would  have 
fallen ;  she  did  wrench  her  ankle  slightly." 

What  an  opportunity  for  Uncle  Jason,  I  thought,  as 
I  recalled  my  uncle's  well  known  gallantry. 

242 


UNCLE   JASON   PLAYS   ALADDIN 

"And  he  was  so  kind  to  Aunt  Faith;  he  brought 
down  the  door  mat  and  spread  it  over  the  wet  side- 
walk and  found  a  board  somewhere,  which  he  laid  over 
the  gutter,  so  that  she  could  reach  the  walk  without 
straining  her  ankle." 

"How  delightful !"  I  exclaimed.  "He  has  Sir  Wal- 
ter Raleigh  beaten  to  a  finish." 

Florentine  laughed  again  as  she  related  the  rest 
of  it.  She  herself  had  introduced  them,  and  Aunt 
Faith — now  that  it  could  be  done  with  propriety — had 
shaken  hands  with  him,  and  invited  him  to  stay  and 
have  a  cup  of  tea,  which  was  undoubtedly  what  Uncle 
Jason  had  intended  to  do  from  the  first. 

It  was  a  captivating  little  romance,  and  while  Flor- 
entine was  telling  me,  the  hum  of  conversation  went 
steadily  on  in  the  little  reception  room  beyend;  oc- 
casionally a  ripe  laugh  broke  forth  in  Uncle  Jason's 
hearty  bass  voice. 

It  seemed  a  pity  to  interrupt  them  but  I  had  to  do 
so;  there  were  many  things  to  be  done,  and  in  the 
interval  of  conversation — while  I  was  giving  Floren- 
tine the  diamond — she  had  promised  that  we  would 
be  married  that  evening. 

"Mr.  Pancoast  will  be  well  by  that  time,"  said 
Florentine.  "I  had  a  talk  with  him  over  the  telephone 
this  morning." 

"I  thought  Aunt  Faith  wouldn't  have  a  telephone?" 

"Oh,  I  went  out  to  find  one." 

"How  is  the  duffer?"  I  asked  irreverently. 

Florentine's  face  grew  sad.  "He  is  in  very  low 
spirits  and  he  advises  me  not  to  get  married !" 

"The  old  sinner!" 

243 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE    WALL 

"Yes,  Mr.  Pancoast  says  that  all  marriages  are 
foolish,  and  that  this  world  is  a  bad  world;  from  his 
tone  I  think — I  am  afraid  that  Mr.  Pancoast  is  very 
down  in  his  mind." 

"Oh,  he'll  come  along  all  right,"  I  assured  her,  for 
I  knew  it  was  "the  morning  after  the  night  before" 
for  him. 

Florentine  shook  her  head  sadly  and  I  could  see 
that  she  did  not  believe  me. 

Meanwhile  in  the  reception  room  the  voices  had 
grown  firmer. 

Uncle  Jason  had  finished  his  tea  and  Aunt  Faith 
was  pouring  him  a  glass  of  wine.  I  knew  afterwards 
it  was  a  very  tiny  glass  and  the  decanter  was  tall  and 
slim, — very  aristocratic  and  very  old,  and  the  wine 
was  light  in  weight  and  delicate  in  color. 

But  Uncle  Jason  eyed  it  with  the  eye  of  a  parched 
man  suddenly  given  a  drop  of  nectar. 

"It  is  wine  that  was  given  to  my  great-grandfather 
by  King  George,"  murmured  Aunt  Faith  as  she  held 
the  delicate  glass  by  its  dainty  stem  and  presented  it 
with  a  courtesy. 

Uncle  Jason  lifted  it  to  the  light.  "By  gracious!" 
he  exclaimed  with  a  ruddy  flush  of  appreciation,  "it's 
a  beauty,  that  glass;  somebody  got  a  bargain,  there's 
inlay." 

"That  glass  was  presented  to  my  grandmother  by 
Queen  Victoria,"  fairly  bubbled  Aunt  Faith.  "She 
sent  it  by  a  special  envoy,  the  day  of  my  grand- 
mother's crystal  wedding." 

"Well,  here's  to  grandmother's  health!"  roared 
Uncle  Jason,  tossing  down  the  wine. 

244 


UNCLE  JASON  PLAYS  ALADDIN 

"My  grandmother  is  dead,"  said  Aunt  Faith. 

"Not  dead!"  ejaculated  Uncle  Jason  incredulously. 
But  Aunt  Faith  was  too  perfectly  delighted  to  respond. 

And  now  Uncle  Jason  was  saying  good-bye  to 
Aunt  Faith  and  she  was  insisting  that  she  could  not 
possibly  accompany  him  shopping,  while  he  said  that 
she  must,  and  she  said  she  really  couldn't. 

"But  we  must  buy  their  wedding  present,"  Uncle 
Jason  insisted.  "If  those  two  kids  are  going  to  get 
married,  your  pretty  niece  and  my  scapegrace  of  a 
nephew,  they've  got  to  have  something  nice  for  a 
wedding  gift,  that's  sure." 

Aunt  Faith  agreed  that  we  ought  to  have  a  wed- 
ding present,  but  there  were  the  proprieties  to  be  con- 
sidered, and  when  it  came  to  accompanying  Uncle 
Jason  to  Bond  Street  without  a  chaperon,  well,  she'd 
like  to — but  she  really  couldn't ! 

Right  here  I  interrupted  and  managed  to  get  a  word 
alone  with  her. 

"Does — Sir  Charles — know?"  she  asked  nervously. 

"I've  silenced  him!"  I  said  quickly. 

She  gave  me  a  questioning  look,  but  there  was  no 
time  for  explanations. 

It  wound  up  by  my  dragging  Uncle  Jason  away  by 
his  coat-tails  while  Florentine  and  Aunt  Faith  stood 
in  the  hall,  both  saying  good-bye  at  once.  Uncle  Jason 
insisted  that  he  wasn't  going  to  say  good-bye,  first 
because  he  was  superstitious  about  it,  and  second  be- 
cause he  wasn't  going  to  be  gone  long  enough  to  make 
it  worth  while.  He  intended  to  call  about  three 
o'clock  to  report  to  Aunt  Faith  the  progress  he  was 
making  with  the  wedding  present.  And  he  would 

245 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE    WALL 

bring  it  up  on  approval  for  her  to  see,  and  if  she 
didn't  like  it  he'd  change  it,  or  he  would  know  the 
reason  why  not. 

Aunt  Faith  listened  delightedly  and  nodded  her 
head  in  approval.  Uncle  Jason  was  an  Aladdin  whose 
coming  could  rub  all  things  into  brilliancy.  We  said 
our  adieux  and  went  down  the  steps,  but  half  way 
Uncle  Jason  turned  and  looked  back. 

The  door  was  wide  open  and  framed  in  its  archway 
stood  Aunt  Faith.  She  had  committed  a  terrible 
breach  of  etiquette  for  an  English  lady,  for  she  stood 
in  the  doorway  to  see  us  off.  Uncle  Jason  turned 
around  and  stared  at  her  so  long  that  I  had  to  pluck 
his  sleeve,  but  I  didn't  blame  him,  for  Aunt  Faith  was 
a  picture.  Her  dark  hair,  only  half  streaked  with 
white,  was  piled  on  her  head  in  wonderfully  dressed 
puffs  and  coils  and  her  tall  and  almost  girlishly  slim 
figure  was  gowned  in  a  lovely  grey  satin,  which  did 
not  need  the  added  dignity  of  Aunt  Faith's  real  lace 
collar  and  cuffs. 

"By  George,  she's  a  thoroughbred,  a  lady  every 
inch  of  her,"  ejaculated  Uncle  Jason. 

I  supposed  he  referred  to  Florentine  and  I  gave  my 
instantaneous  assent. 

"I  mean  Lady  Faith,"  he  explained;  "she's  a  re- 
markable woman." 

"Why,  you've  only  known  her  a  little  while,"  I  re- 
plied slightly  jarred. 

"I'm  sixty-four,"  retorted  my  uncle,  "and  when  a 
man's  sixty-four  he  doesn't  have  to  eat  the  whole  of 
an  egg  to  judge  its  character." 

We  got  into  the  cab  and  drove  some  time  in  silence. 
246 


UNCLE   JASON    PLAYS    ALADDIN 

A  sigh  from  Uncle  Jason  recalled  me  to  the  present. 
He  sat  opposite  me  with  that  look  on  his  face  which 
I  have  grown  to  associate  with  some  momentous  un- 
dertaking; but  he  said  nothing. 

As  we  neared  Bond  Street — for  Uncle  Jason  be- 
lieves there  is  no  time  like  now  for  doing  a  thing  and 
the  wedding  present  hung  on  his  mind — he  said  sol- 
emnly : 

"Roman,  your  Aunt  Maria  has  been  dead  four 
years." 

I  made  no  reply;  the  tombstone  in  the  family  lot  at 
Beverly  would  corroborate  this  statement. 

After  a  while  the  silence  was  again  broken  by  Uncle 
Jason.  "Roman,  don't  you  think  she  looks  a  little — 
just  a  little  like  your  late  Aunt  Maria;  only  she's  a 
little  taller  and  a  little  slimmer  and  her  hair  is  a  little 
more  fixed  up  ?" 

I  was  still  thinking  of  Florentine  and  indignation 
spoke:  "She's  a  lot  younger  than  Aunt  Maria  and  a 
thousand  times  better  looking  than  Aunt  Maria  ever 
was." 

A  vision  of  Aunt  Maria,  short  and  fat,  with  her  thin 
grey  hair  dragged  back  from  her  worthy  but  plain 
face,  flitted  through  my  mind.  Like  Aunt  Maria  in- 
deed! 

Uncle  Jason  added  no  further  views  and  it  did  not 
occur  to  me  until  next  day  that  he  was  not  referring 
to  Florentine. 

"When  are  you  going  to  Paris?"  I  asked  abruptly 
for  Uncle  Jason's  plans  seemed  suddenly  changed. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  sage  reply.  "Safe  prophecy 
is  never  dated." 

247 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ME  OR  MY  DOUBLE 

1LEFT  him  at  the  jewelry  store,  and  went  over  to 
make  my  afternoon  call  on  Lady  Hensington. 
Here  I  found  all  in  turmoil,  and  I  found  a  Scot- 
land Yard  man  in  charge. 

An  inventory  had  been  taken  of  the  wedding  pres- 
ents, as  they  were  shipped  away,  and  it  was  discovered 
that  a  chest  of  silver  had  been  carted  bodily  off  the 
night  before,  as  well  as  a  gold  loving  cup. 

On  learning  this,  Lady  Hensington  had  sent  to 
Scotland  Yard.  I  found  them  in  close  conference  in 
the  drawing-room.  When  he  saw  me  the  Scotland 
Yard  man  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  cry : 

"Here  he  is!    This  is  the  man  who  took  the  silver.'' 

It  took  some  time  to  quiet  him  but  when  I  did  get 
the  story  it  was  strange  enough. 

The  thief — or  the  one  supposed  to  be  the  thief — 
had  so  closely  resembled  me  that  he  was  allowed  to 
depart  with  the  articles.  The  man  who  had  stood  at 
the  door,  the  Scotland  Yard  man,  now  talking  with 
Lady  Hensington,  still  swore  that  it  was  I.  So  posi- 
tive was  he  in  his  identification  that  Lady  Hensington 
wavered,  and  I  thought  she  looked  at  me  with  more 
suspicious  an  eye  than  was  agreeable  to  a  man  who 
had  graduated  at  a  gentleman's  college. 

"You  surely  don't  think  I  stole  them?"  I  asked  as 
she  glowered  at  me.  Her  reply  was  non-committal. 

248 


ME  OR  MY  DOUBLE 


"Where  did  you  go  when  you  left  here  last  night?" 

I  declined  to  state,  and  she  continued: 

"Because  I  called  up  your  apartment  on  the  tele- 
phone and  the  reply,  in  a  feminine  voice — and  the 
other  sounds — made  me  think,  my  dear  Roman,  that 
you  had  begun  to  sow  your  wild  oats  here  in  London." 

"Do  you  mean  to  intimate  that  I  stole  your  daugh- 
ter's gold  loving  cup  and  her  wedding  silver  and  took 
them  to  my  flat  for  the  entertainment  of  a  house 
party  ?" 

Lady  Kensington  averted  her  eyes.  "But  the  sounds, 
the  shouts,  the  wild  laughter  in  your  apartment  were 
distinctly  to  be  heard  over  the  'phone !"  she  said 
coldly. 

It  was  useless  to  argue  with  Lady  Kensington,  as 
she  knew  what  she  had  heard,  and  I  didn't  feel  like 
explaining,  but  I  called  the  Scotland  Yard  man  out 
and  conversed  with  him.  He  was  still  convinced  that 
I  was  the  thief ;  and  as  it  had  been  he  who  had  let 
the  chest  of  silver  go  out  he  was  inclined  to  stick  to 
it.  However,  after  more  talk,  I  partly  showed  him 
that  he  was  wrong. 

The  story  was  rather  interesting  to  me.  The  man, 
my  double,  had  come  diffidently  to  the  front  door, 
where  the  Scotland  Yard  detective  had  bidden  him  a 
welcome  and  told  him  to  go  in  and  stand  by  the  wed- 
ding presents.  He  seemed  surprised,  but  did  as  he 
was  told.  In  front  of  the  presents  he  had  found  an- 
other Scotland  Yard  man  who  was  just  as  cordial. 

Evidently  encouraged  by  their  amiability,  the  thief, 
my  double,  had  brazenly  picked  up  the  big  antique 
turquoise  brooch,  with  some  remark  about  putting  it 

249 


THE  STAIRWAY   ON  THE   WALL 

away  for  safe  keeping.  Later  the  Scotland  Yard  man 
asked  him  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  silver  over 
night,  and  he  replied  that  he  would  begin  to  remove  it 
at  once.  So  he  took  the  gold  loving  cup,  carried  it 
down  and  out,  and  put  it  in  a  cab,  and  came  back  for 
the  chest  of  silver. 

No  suspicions  were  aroused  until  about  four  A.  M. 
when  they  reported  the  matter  to  Lady  Kensington 
with  remarks  on  my  singular  conduct.  Her  ladyship 
had  immediately  called  up  my  apartment  only  to  hear, 
over  the  telephone,  echoes  of  the  musical  orgy  going 
on  within  my  flat. 

They  both  talked  at  once,  and  I  pieced  the  threads 
together. 

"Say  nothing  for  a  while,"  I  counseled,  "but  meet 
me  here  again  in  an  hour." 

This  last  to  the  Scotland  Yard  man,  who,  now  that 
he  saw  I  was  not  the  thief,  had  become  sour  toward 
me  for  defrauding  him  of  his  reward. 

"And,  meanwhile,  be  as  mum  as  a  turtle." 

I  made  it  .plain  to  the  Scotland  Yard  man  that  it 
would  be  to  his  ultimate  advantage  to  be  quiet  and  he 
left.  I  went  with  him  to  the  door. 

"I  am  in  a  bad  hole  about  this,"  he  admitted,  "and 
I  ought  to  report  it  at  once;  if  waiting  should  make 
it  worse " 

"It  will  be  the  making  of  your  fame  if  you  can 
have  patience,"  I  assured  him,  but  I  did  not  feel  so 
wholly  sure  myself. 

I  thought  that  Johnny  the  Crook  had  taken  the  sil- 
ver and  the  brooch  and  I  knew  I  had  his  address — for 
the  highwaywoman  had  given  it  to  me.  But  a  fear, 

250 


ME  OR  MY  DOUBLE 


a  lurking  fear,  was  still  in  my  heart.  I  knew  that  I 
had  left  the  Crook  under  the  windows  of  Sir  Charles' 
room  at  that  tempting  hour  for  crooks,  the  hour  of 
darkness.  And  I  did  not  know  what  had  happened. 

Lady  Kensington  reluctantly  let  me  go,  for  she  had 
the  feeling  that  she  was  losing  her  chances  of  getting 
her  possessions. 

She  held  on  to  me  almost  to  the  door. 

"The  turquoise  brooch,  that  lovely  antique,  the 
heirloom  of  the  De  Chambrey  family,"  she  moaned. 

"I  cannot  answer  for  the  brooch,"  I  said,  "but  it 
may  be  found  yet.  It  may  possibly  be  pawned  or 
sold." 

She  brightened  a  little,  "It's  as  big  as  a  trade  dollar 
and  a  lovely  shade  of  blue  all  set  in  a  beautiful  pale 
silver  filigree  setting.  Oh,  dear!" 

"Cheer  up,"  I  advised,  "and  be  thankful !" 

I  don't  know  just  what  she  had  to  be  thankful  for 
but  I  felt  so  joyful  myself  that  nothing  more  serious 
had  gone  that  I  wanted  the  whole  world  to  join  me  in 
a  paean  of  thanksgiving. 

She  promised  to  be  as  thankful  as  she  could,  and  the 
Scotland  Yard  man  and  I  left  the  mansion  together. 
In  parting  he  wrung  my  hand  and  thanked  me  again. 

"If  you  know  a  rogue  or  a  rascal  in  London,  point 
him  out  to  me  and  I'll  do  him  for  you,"  he  said  con- 
fidentially. 

I  wanted  to  tell  him  that  I  did  know  a  rogue  and  a 
rascal  and  that  I  was  uneasy  about  him  at  that  mo- 
ment, and  that  I  would  really  like  to  know  what  he  was 
doing  out  at  the  Castle ;  but  it  didn't  seem  a  case  for 
the  active  endeavor  of  my  Scotland  Yard  friend. 

251 


However,  the  Hepworth  had  not  been  stolen  and  for 
this  I  was  thankful.  I  mentally  conveyed  my  apolo- 
gies to  Sir  Charles  for  having  suspected  him  of  taking 
it  in  that  moment  when,  by  the  side  of  Lady  Hen- 
sington,  he  had  fuddled  the  wrappings  of  his  hand. 

After  I  left  him  T  signaled  that  ready  companion  of 
every  man  in  London,  a  cabby,  and  giving  him  a  di- 
rection I  settled  back  to  think;  there  was  little  more 
to  be  done  except  to  drop  a  line  to  Lady  Kensington, 
telling  her  that  I  was  about  to  be  married.  And  to 
keep  her  from  bothering  me  about  her  brooch  I  would 
tell  her  that  I  would  start  at  once  for  the  Continent 
on  my  wedding  tour.  Dear  lady!  how  she  would 
gasp! 

Alighting  at  Trafalgar  Square,  I  ran  plump  into 
Uncle  Jason.  He  was  bustling  along  with  a  box  in 
his  arms,  around  which  he  could  scarcely  reach. 

"Hello !"  I  exclaimed,  "what  in  the  world !" 

"Flowers!"  he  cried,  joyfully.  "The  biggest  in 
London.  I  couldn't  get  American  Beauties,  but  these 
will  do.  She  said  she  liked  pansies — but  I  think  she 
ought  to  have  roses,  and  the  only  way  to  get  'em  to 
her  without  smashing  'em  is  to  carry  'em." 

"Do  you  think  she  wants  red  roses  ?"  I  asked  a  little 
doubtfully,  for  I  had  just  deposited  a  rush  order  for 
orange  blossoms. 

"Sure !"  said  Uncle  Jason,  proudly,  "and  I'm  going 
to  tell  her  how  to  wear  them." 

I  stared  at  him,  for  I  could  not  avoid  the  impres- 
sion that  my  Uncle  Jason  was  rather  overreaching 
himself  in  the  matter  of  floral  offerings,  and  was  in- 
truding into  what  should  be  my  province. 

252 


ME  OR  MY  DOUBLE 


"Red  roses  are  inappropriate,"  I  remarked. 

"Don't  you  be  so  young,  my  boy,"  he  returned 
patronizingly,  "and  remember  your  Uncle  Jason  wasn't 
born  yesterday.  I've  got  a  bunch  all  tied  with  ribbon 
for  her  hair — the  lady  clerk  fixed  it  for  me — and  an- 
other to  carry  in  her  hand,  and  a  beautiful  bouquet  for 
her  corset." 

"You  mean  her  corsage !"  I  suggested,  endeavoring 
to  be  pleasant.  "But  I  want  to  hint  to  you  that  this  is 
an  affair  that  is  strictly  mine,  and  if  Florentine  wants 
flowers  for  her  corsage " 

"Florentine!  Who  said  anything  about  Florentine?" 

"Why,  aren't  those  roses  for  her?" 

"No,  you  damn  fool !"  And  with  a  shake  of  im- 
patience that  set  the  rose  petals  flying,  Uncle  Jason 
left  me  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  sidewalk  where 
I  turned  to  stare  at  him  and  wonder  if  he  had  gone 
mad.  While  I  looked  I  saw  him  step  nimbly  into  a 
tailor  shop  on  Regent  Street. 

I  ran  across  him  once  more;  it  was  on  Oxford 
Street,  and  when  he  saw  me  he  treated  me  to  a  wise 
wink: 

"I  found  a  bargain  this  time,  my  boy,"  said  he.  "It's 
a  beautiful  piece  of  jewelry;  bought  it  of  a  woman  in 
the  street  for  a  song;  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  some 
time.  She'll  be  delighted  with  it;  it's  a  big  blue  tur- 
quoise set  in  silver,  and  it  was  a  bargain !" 

Then  he  linked  his  arm  in  mine  and  we  walked  up 
the  Strand  to  the  Savoy,  where  we  stopped  for  what 
Uncle  Jason  called  a  "smile."  While  we  smiled,  he 
told  me  some  gossip  about  the  Hadley  family  which 
I  had  not  heard  before.  In  that  short  space  of  time, 

253 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

my  Uncle  Jason  had  been  introduced  into  the  best 
Club  in  London  and  had  hobnobbed  at  luncheon  with 
men  whose  names  were  household  words  to  me,  but 
whom  personally  I  had  never  even  aspired  to  meet. 

"You've  met  more  celebrities  in  one  day  than  most 
men  meet  in  one  lifetime,"  I  declared,  as  he  poured 
out  the  story  of  the  morning  to  me.  But  he  wanted 
to  tell  me  about  the  Hadleys  and  about  Sir  Charles  in 
particular. 


254 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   ROOM    WITH   THE   DOUBLE   WALL 

IT  appeared  from  what  Uncle  Jason  had  heard, 
that  that  nobleman's  affairs  were  much  more 
deeply  involved  than  was  generally  supposed. 
He  had  borrowed  heavily,  invested  badly,  and  unless 
some  good  piece  of  fortune  came  his  way,  he  was 
pretty  nearly  face  to  face  with  ruin. 

"So  that  is  why  he  was  so  keen  after  Florentine," 
I  remarked. 

Uncle  Jason  nodded  as  he  went  on  to  tell  me  more 
of  the  family  affairs,  which  were,  from  his  narrative, 
in  desperate  shape.  For  one  thing,  Aunt  Faith's 
elegant  little  town  house  was  heavily  mortgaged — the 
poor  lady  had  entrusted  her  last  dollar  to  Sir  Charles 
— and  for  another,  there  was  a  lien  on  nearly  every 
scrap  of  everything  owned  by  any  of  the  Hadleys. 

"They  won't  have  enough  left  to  wind  around  their 
little  fingers  unless  somebody  jumps  in  and  saves  their 
lives,"  was  Uncle  Jason's  decision. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  the  life-saver?"  I  asked. 

Uncle  Jason's  reply  was  a  chuckle.  "A  change  of 
farms  does  an  old  horse  good,"  he  declared,  as  he 
sat  and  fingered  his  glass  reflectively. 

"Roman,  your  Aunt  Maria  has  been  dead  four 
years,  and  now  your  Cousin  Irene  is  going  to  Con- 
stantinople to  teach  the  devout  Turks  how  to  become 
side-stepping  Christians.  I  knew  a  Turk  once;  he 

255 


THE  STAIRWAY  ON   THE    WALL 

lived  in  Boston;  sold  rugs.  The  Koran  was  on  his 
mind  as  steady  as  the  motor  was  on  mine.  He  spent 
his  Sundays  on  his  stomach ;  I  spent  mine  on  my  back 
with  a  monkey  wrench  in  my  hand.  He  used  to  get 
down  on  his  knees  and  chin  a  spot  in  his  prayer  rug 
three  times  a  day.  One  day  he  told  me  that  he  had 
been  in  Boston  a  whole  year  and  hadn't  seen  a  Chris- 
tian yet.  You  couldn't  live  in  Constantinople  a  \vhole 
year  and  not  see  a  Mohammedan.  But  Irene  is  like 
her  mother;  when  she  wants  to  do  a  thing  she  up  and 
does  it — for  twenty  years  your  Aunt  Maria  sent  my 
old  pajamas  to  Borneo.  And,  now,  Irene  is  going  to 
leave  me,  to  tell  the  Turks  how  to  be  religious." 

"Yes,  Uncle  Jason." 

I  was  thinking  of  Aunt  Maria,  who  never  wore  her 
best  dress  until  it  was  out  of  style  and  who  kept  the 
covers  on  the  parlor  furniture  all  the  year  around ; 
when  Uncle  Jason  smoked  she  followed  him  with  an 
ash  tray.  Long  before  she  died  Aunt  Maria  planted 
a  box  of  grave  moss  because  it  would  be  so  much 
cheaper  than  buying  it  of  a  florist;  the  weeping  willow 
in  the  family  lot  she  raised  from  a  shrub  and  watered 
with  a  tomato  can. 

My  uncle  took  a  long  quaff,  set  down  his  glass  and 
sighed  deeply ;  sighed  so  heavily  that  his  ruddy  face 
became  seamed  with  long  lugubrious  wrinkles.  ITe 
looked  like  a  chubby  baby  getting  ready  to  cry. 

"Roman,  it's  a  lonesome  life.  I've  got  a  snug  little 
house  in  Beverly,  with  a  stable,  a  garage,  a  lake  and  a 
windmill !" 

"Finest  country  seat  in  New  England,"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

256 


THE  ROOM  WITH  THE  DOUBLE  WALL 

"And  I've  got  a  few  dollars  tucked  away  for  a 
rainy  day." 

"An  umbrella  of  at  least  a  million/'  I  observed. 

Uncle  Jason  smiled  a  gratified  smile. 

"I  was  only  thinking,  Roman "  From  afar  there 

came  the  subdued  strains  of  a  Hungarian  band; 
Uncle  Jason  began  to  beat  time  with  his  finger. 

"Wedding  bells  listen  good  to  me,"  he  said. 

The  Hungarian  band  hummed  along  and  under  its 
encouraging  influence  Uncle  Jason  leaned  across  the 
table  and  tapped  my  hand. 

"That  was  a  mighty  pretty  little  gilt  wine  glass  she 
gave  me  with  that  drop  of  pink  water  in  it.  By 
George,  I'd  like  to  get  a  dozen  just  like  it  for  her! 
Heh !  My  boy,  do  you  want  to  come  out  with  me  and 
look  for  a  glass  store?" 

Uncle  Jason's  smile  was  that  of  a  plump  cherub 
gazing  into  a  pink  glass  alley. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Your  Aunt  Maria  always  drank  out  of  jelly  tum- 
blers to  save  the  cut  glass.  Now  I  was  thinking " 

"Well,  think  away !  But  don't  spend  too  much. 
Some  men  are  Marathons  at  running  into  debt  when 
they  get  to  London." 

Uncle  Jason  tapped  his  forehead  and  his  vest 
pocket  alternately. 

"I'll  see  you  later;  don't  forget  the  hour  for  the 
ceremony,"  I  called  back,  "I've  got  troubles  of  my 
own !" 

There's  many  a  true  word  spoken  in  jest  as  people 
remark  when  they  do  not  know  that  they  are  speak- 
ing seriously. 

257 


THE  STAIRWAY   ON   THE   WALL 

Hardly  had  I  left  Uncle  Jason  when  I  had  an  en- 
counter which  I  was  destined  to  remember  long. 
Looking  backward  I  can  say  that,  brief  though  it  was. 
it  left  its  lasting  impression  upon  my  fortunes.  At 
the  time  it  surprised  as  much  as  it  alarmed  me. 

As  I  stood  upon  the  curb  looking  for  a  cab,  I  felt 
my  arm  suddenly  grasped  by  a  woman's  bare  hand. 

I  looked  down;  there  stood  by  my  side  a  person 
in  an  auto  coat  with  a  veil  tied  over  her  hat,  but  it 
was  pulled  down  so  that  it  shaded  her  face  pretty 
closely. 

"My  word !"  she  exclaimed,  distinctly  but  very  low, 
"what  are  you  doing  here?  Don't  you  know  they're 
out  looking  for  you?" 

Quick  as  a  flash,  for  I  am  not  always  absent- 
minded,  I  pulled  my  own  hat  down  and  turned  my 
head  away. 

"I  don't  see  anyone,"  I  muttered. 

"My  eye,  but  you're  careless !" 

I  glanced  cautiously  at  her.  Yes,  it  was  my  high- 
way woman  of  the  night  before.  I  could  not  be  mis- 
taken; same  red  hair  and  hard,  high  colored  cheeks 
that  looked  redder  and  harder  in  the  cruel  daylight. 

"I'm  going  right  home,"  I  assured  her. 

"Hurry  as  fast  as  ever  you  can ;  they'll  be  coming 
from  the  Castle.  Get  over  to  the  rooms  quick;  Bud 
has  gone  out,  but  you've  got  a  skeleton  key." 

"Are  you  sure  the  rooms  are  safe?"  I  whispered, 
shrinking  back  a  little  toward  the  shadow  of  the 
nearest  building. 

"A  damn  sight  safer  than  the  street!"  was  the  fierce 
ejaculation.  "My  word,  but  you  do  take  chances !  Go 

258 


THE   ROOM    WITH   THE   DOUBLE    WALL 

over;  let  yourself  in  softly,  and  if  they  come  you 
can  slip  into  the  floor." 

I  looked  at  her;  the  veil  was  quite  over  her  face 
now,  so  her  vision  was  dim,  and  my  own  features 
were  concealed  by  my  hat.  I  had  also  turned  up  my 
coat  collar.  She  had  mistaken  me  again  for  Johnny 
the  Crook  and  I  was  hot  on  the  trail. 

"I  don't  think  I  can  manage  the  floor  alone,"  I 
said,  with  a  timid  shudder  that  alarmed  her. 

"Yes  you  can !  And  you  don't  want  to  go  now  and 
show  the  white  feather ;  they  string  up  a  man  quicker 
here  than  they  do  in  Australia,  and  you  ain't  going  to 
lose  your  nerve.  Press  down  on  the  boards  under 
the  window  and  they'll  lift  at  t'other  end.  There's  a 
false  bottom  to  the  floor ;  you  can  crawl  under " 

She  stopped;  an  eager  move  of  mine  may  have 
scared  her. 

"Didn't  Bud  tell  you  ?"  she  questioned  sharply. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"He  said  he  did." 

She  stepped  uneasily  and  craned  her  neck. 

I  looked  around  with  an  apprehension  that  was 
not  simulated;  suppose  Bud  should  see  us  or  Johnny 
himself  if  he  were  so  foolish  as  to  come  out  into  the 
open. 

"You  step  on  one  end  of  the  board  and  the  other 
end  flies  up.  Two  boards  at  once.  Under  you  drop, 
and  you  work  yourself  along  until  you  come  to  the 
partition  between  the  two  rooms;  there  you'll  find  a 
secret  chamber ;  it  isn't  big  enough  for  more  than 
one  person  at  a  time,  but  there's  a  cot  in  it  and  you 
can  lay  low.  If  they  come  to  look  for  you  there's 

259 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

a  peep  hole  so  you  can  see  'em.     If  they  scent  you 
there's  a  box  cupboard  at  the  end  of  the  double  wall." 

"Are  they  out  for  me?"  I  asked. 

"Hush,"  she  said,  "you  bet  they  are;  it  don't  take 
'em  long;  they've  been  searching  the  Castle  woods 
these  hours.  They  found  him  sooner " 

"Tell  me  the  worst,"  I  begged  with  chattering  teeth. 

"You  get  home  quick,"  she  advised.  "Bud's  got  the 
diamond,  but  when  he  gets  back  he'll  put  it  in  the 
false  floor.  It'll  be  moons  before  you  dare  to  have  it 
cut  up,  but  when  you  do,  it's  good  loot  for  all  of  us." 

I  muttered  a  gibbering  assent. 

"Is— is  he— dead?" 

"You're  losing  your  nerve !  My  eye !"  she  ex- 
claimed, as  her  gaze  fell  on  somebody  across  the 
street.  "My  word!" 

I  would  have  given  a  fortune  the  know  the  rest — 
to  hear  who  was  dead — but  I  dared  not  stop. 

I  did  not  wait  to  hear  more;  I  darted  into  the 
crowd,  caught  a  hansom  and  within  two  minutes  was 
entering  the  Savoy  from  the  embankment;  my  desti- 
nation was  the  telephone  booth. 

But  with  what  feelings  did  I  now  proceed !  Johnny, 
the  Crook,  was  in  London.  The  Castle  grounds  were 
being  ineffectually  beaten  for  him — if  the  word  of  the 
woman  was  to  be  believed — and  he  was  in  possession 
of  a  diamond,  so  large  in  size  and  of  such  conspicuous 
beauty,  that  it  would  have  to  be  cut  up  before  it  could 
be  sold! 

Where  had  Johnny,  the  Crook,  obtained  the  dia- 
mond— and  why  were  they  searching  the  woods  for 
him  ?  Had  anything  happened  to  Sir  Charles  ? 

260 


THE  ROOM  WITH  THE  DOUBLE  WALL 

I  called  up  Lady  Hensington  and  at  her  end  of  the 
wire  I  was  given  such  a  flood  of  words  that  I  could 
understand  nothing.  The  main  thing  appeared  that 
I  was  needed  at  once.  Lady  Hensington,  herself,  got 
to  the  'phone  and  hysterically  implored  me  to  hurry. 

There  was  trouble  at  Lady  Hensington's  house ;  and 
it  was  trouble  which  I  could  not  dodge.  From  her 
few  coherent  sentences  I  knew  that  I  must  expect 
the  worst. 

I  jumped  back  into  the  cab  and  was  at  her  door 
while  my  senses  were  still  whirling.  I  was  shown — 
pushed  is  a  more  accurate  description — into  her  draw- 
ing-room and  the  hall  doors  were  rolled  shut  behind 
me. 

Immediately  I  found  myself  in  the  presence  of  six 
persons,  among  them  Lady  Hensington;  and  as  I  ad- 
vanced to  speak  to  her,  she  hurriedly  introduced  me 
to  three  men  from  Scotland  Yard.  They  were  more 
or  less  professional  in  aspect ;  but  the  other  two  who 
bore  the  appearance  of  brokers  were  introduced  as 
diamond  experts. 

"Speak,  somebody!"  implored  Lady  Hensington. 
"This  is  my  lawyer,"  indicating  me,  "and  he  will  act 
for  me." 

It  was  no  time  for  snobbishness,  as  she  and  all 
assembled  saw.  She  peeled  off  her  manner  as  one 
peels  off  a  burdensome  garment,  and  now  she  was  her 
impulsive  self. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE    MISSING    HEPWORTH 

NOT  all  speaking  at  once,  but  quite  intelligently, 
for  they  were  men  of  the  world,  they  told 
the  story.  I  gathered  it  thus: 

Lady  Kensington  had  that  morning  become  alarmed 
at  the  theft  of  the  brooch  and  had  decided  to  place 
the  Hepworth  diamond  in  safe  keeping.  Calling  up 
her  jeweler  she  had  asked  him  to  send  two  men  to 
get  the  gem.  The  messengers  had  come  and  Lady 
Kensington  had  handed  over  the  blue  velvet  box  to 
them. 

According  to  custom,  and  as  a  safeguard  as  well 
as  a  formality,  the  men  asked  to  see  the  diamond. 
Lady  Kensington  herself  opened  the  box ;  the  men 
stared  at  it,  then  they  exchanged  glances  with  each 
other  and  one  of  them  lifted  the  stone  from  its  place. 

They  fingered  the  diamond,  held  it  up  to  the  light 
and  handed  it  back  to  Lady  Kensington.  Much  sur- 
prised she  had  asked  the  meaning  of  the  curious 
looks. 

"The  stone  is  mock,"  declared  one  of  the  men. 

"A  good  imitation,  but  mere  paste."  added  the 
other.  "It  is  not  worth  the  box  in  which  it  lies." 

Lady  Kensington,  faint  and  incredulous,  but  fear- 
ing the  worst,  called  up  the  jeweler.  The  men  were 
experts,  and  nothing  could  be  done.  If  they  had  said 

262 


THE  MISSING  HEPWORTH 

the  Hepworth  was  paste,  it  was  nothing  else;  more- 
over they  knew  the  Hepworth  well.  When  it  was  re- 
cut,  five  years  before,  the  work  had  been  done  in 
their  laboratory.  It  was  impossible  to  doubt  their 
word  or  question  their  judgment. 

After  Lady  Kensington  had  come  out  of  her 
swoon,  Scotland  Yard  was  called  up,  and  as  the  de- 
tectives came,  I  arrived  also. 

"Oh!"  groaned  Lady  Kensington,  white  as  death, 
"what  shall  I  do?" 

I  was  to  the  surprise  of  everyone  and  the  exas- 
peration of  Lady  Kensington,  the  coolest  of  them  all. 

"When  did  you  last  have  it  from  its  box  ?"  I  asked, 
as  we  all  bent  forward  to  listen. 

"It  has  not  been  out  of  the  box  since  the  day  I  pur- 
chased it,  nearly  a  month  ago ;  it  has  been  under  lock 
and  key  until  last  night.  Then  I  had  it  put  in  this 
blue  velvet  box  with  the  wedding  presents." 

"Yes,"  I  prompted,  "and  last  night?" 

"It  was  not  touched  except  once,  and  that  was  when 
I  lifted  it  from  the  table  to  show  it  to  Sir  Charles 
Hadley.  The  box  slipped  from  my  hand,  but  Sir 
Charles  picked  it  up  and  replaced  it  before  my  very 
eyes." 

"I  saw  it,"  I  observed. 

"Later  I  sent  him  back  to  be  sure  that  it  was  safely 
laid  in  its  case." 

"And  after  that?" 

Lady  Kensington  remembered  nothing  special  ex- 
cept that  she  herself  had  locked  it  up  before  the  guests 
departed. 

"Ah!"  I  breathed,  and  we  took  the  opportunity  of 
263 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

exchanging  glances  all  around;  but  our  communica- 
tions were  mystic  and  not  clear  cut. 

"So,  Sir  Charles  Hadley  was  the  last  person  to 
handle  this  diamond?"  questioned  one  of  the  men. 

Lady  Kensington  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but 
closed  them  again.  The  detectives  exchanged  glances 
and  I  could  see  that  suspicion  had  fallen  on  Sir 
Charles. 

Yet,  wretch  though  he  was,  he  was  Florentine's 
cousin,  and  I  must,  in  honor,  protect  him  as  far  as  I 
could  without  sacrificing  myself. 

"There's  nothing  more  to  be  said  now,"  I  re- 
marked unconsciously  assuming  the  direction  of  the 
matter,  "and  Lady  Kensington  is  too  exhausted  to 
talk." 

I  dismissed  them  all.  But  as  they  were  going,  my 
Scotland  Yard  friend  of  an  hour  before  beckoned  to 
me. 

"It's  all  up,"  he  said  shortly,  "they've  fired  me — 
or  they  will  when  I  get  back." 

"Don't  be  so  sure,"  I  returned.  "But  get  out  your 
note  book  and  listen." 

He  produced  a  book;  as  I  spoke  he  made  cabalistic 
signs. 

"Not  so  fast,"  I  cautioned  him.  "I  don't  know  who 
took  that  diamond,  and  if  I  did  I  wouldn't  tell.  But 
I  know  pretty  nearly  where  it  is." 

I  had  decided  that — though  it  might  complicate  mat- 
ters and  involve  me  in  an  embarrassing  discussion — 
I  would  do  what  I  could  to  recover  the  diamond.  I 
owed  this  much  to  myself. 

He  looked  up  doubtfully. 
264 


THE  MISSING  HEP  WORTH 

"It  is  at  that  address,"  I  said,  handing  him  the  slip 
of  paper  which  the  henna  tinted  lady  had  given  me 
the  night  before  in  the  road.  "And  if  it  isn't  there 
you  can  get  it  by  watching  the  place.'' 

He  took  the  paper:  "Crookedest  location  in  Lon- 
don !''  was  his  remark. 

"Well!"  I  observed,  "the  diamond  isn't  far  from 
there.  It  has  become  the  property  of  Johnny,  the 
Australian  Crook,  and  he's  living  at  that  number." 

"Johnny,  the  Australian  Crook,"  exclaimed  the 
Scotland  Yard  man,  jumping  a  foot  in  the  air,  "why, 
there's  a  big  reward  out  for  him!" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  as  he  told  me  how  Johnny 
the  Crook  had  escaped  from  Sydney  by  some  un- 
known route,  and  how  the  police  of  every  port  were 
on  the  lookout  for  him. 

"This  will  be  a  big  feather  in  my  cap,"  he  cried, 
shaking  my  hand,  "if  it  comes  out  well." 

"Get  back  the  diamond  for  Lady  Kensington  and 
you  may  wear  the  feather  proudly,"  I  declared. 

"Of  course  you  know  that  he  is  the  one  who  came 
to  the  wedding  as  my  double  this  morning  about  four 
— as  the  guests  were  leaving — and  in  the  confusion 
took  the  gold  cup,  the  brooch  and  the  silver  plate." 

"I'll  get  'em  all !"  he  swore. 

Then,  for  I  knew  I  must  trust  him  wholly,  I  told 
him  about  the  double  floor,  the  secret  chamber  hidden 
in  the  false  partitions  and  the  little  box  cupboard  be- 
yond. While  I  described  it,  he  scribbled  it  madly. 

"There's  a  peep  hole  in  the  wall;  remember  that  he 
can  see  you  and  dodge.  There's  a  way,  I  believe,  of 
sliding  through  the  inner  wall,  down  three  stories  to 

265 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

the  cellar.  You  can  wager  they  wouldn't  forget  to 
provide  a  way  of  escape." 

"That's  a  new  one  on  me,"  he  smiled. 

"Now  don't  let  your  steps  get  cold,"  I  cautioned 
him,  "and  work  pretty  carefully.  Say  'Singapore'  at 
the  door — if  you  need  a  password." 

I  wasn't  sure  he  heard  the  last,  for  he  darted  away 
as  though  he  were  in  the  game  of  hare  and  hounds. 

I  returned  to  Lady  Kensington's  drawing-room 
after  seeing  my  friend  of  Scotland  Yard  disappear, 
and  here  I  found  grief  indeed,  for,  as  she  hysterically 
admitted,  she  had  put  a  fortune  in  the  great  diamond, 
and  now  to  lose  it  meant  certain  trouble.  The  de 
Chambrays  would  demand  the  money  in  cash  and 
Lady  Kensington  could  not  produce  it.  She  had  in- 
tended all  the  time  to  sell  the  diamond. 

It  was  to  be  shown  at  the  reception  to  set  all  Lon- 
don gaping,  and  then  it  was  to  go  to  Italy.  It  would 
be  as  good  as  an  invitation  to  Court  to  display  it  in 
Naples.  After  the  merry  round  of  the  social  season 
it  had  been  decided  to  put  it  in  a  safe  deposit  vault — 
which  was  only  another  way  of  admitting  that  it 
would  be  sold.  Lady  Kensington  thought  she  could 
eat  her  cake  and  have  it. 

"Of  course  it  was  taken  while  you  were  in  charge," 
she  accused,  "and  no  one  could  have  touched  it  if 
you  had  been  watching  as  you  ought  to  have  watched." 

I  was  not  ready  to  admit  this  and  I  told  her  Lady- 
ship so,  adding  a  few  other  facts,  taking  care,  how- 
ever, to  shield  Sir  Charles,  for,  after  all,  he  was 
Florentine's  cousin.  But  I  did  manage  to  cast  a 
doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  when  the  robbery  and  substi- 

266 


THE  MISSING  HEPWORTH 

tution  had  actually  occurred.     Manlike,  having  made 
my  point,  I  was  willing  to  retrieve. 

Lady  Hensington,  who  had  become  quite  meek, 
now  asked  my  advice.  She  did  not  say  it  in  so 
many  words — for  she  was  too  well  bred  to  hint — but 
since  the  diamond  had  been  stolen  during  the  evening, 
it  did  seem  hard  that  the  loss  should  fall  entirely  on 
her.  The  words  she  did  utter  with  pointed  meaning 
were  these: 

"You  are  single,  Roman,  and  you  have  more  than 
you  want!" 

Following  this,  she  very  tactfully  suggested  that  a 
loan,  to  be  paid  back  in  the  future, — say  if  a  certain 
London  investment  turned  out  well — would  be  accept- 
able. She  had  never  asked  for  a  loan  before  and  this 
was  such  a  prodigious  one ;  yet  what  was  she  to  do  ? 

But  to  this  I  would  not  listen.  I  had  no  intention 
of  burdening  her  with  a  debt  that  she  could  never 
pay,  and  I  told  her  so,  adding  a  few  cold  crumbs  of 
comfort. 

Meanwhile,  I  made  up  my  mind  what  I  would  do. 
My  own  sense  of  responsibility  told  me  that  I  was  in 
a  way  to  blame  for  the  loss  of  the  gem,  even  though 
Sir  Charles  had  taken  it  in  Lady  Kensington's  presence 
and  had  substituted  a  piece  of  paste,  as  I  firmly  be- 
lieved. And  I  must  restore  it  to  her  or  its  equivalent. 

Going  to  her  telephone,  which  happened  to  be  a 
boxed  one  in  the  hall,  I  made  certain  immediate  ap- 
pointments, the  import  of  which  I  did  not  mention  to 
Lady  Hensington;  next  I  bade  her  good-bye  civilly, 
but  I  left  her  in  uncertainty  as  to  what  course  I  in- 
tended to  pursue. 

267 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    IV ALL 

On  the  'phone  I  had  got  the  office  of  the  best  known 
diamond  broker  in  London,  and  as  shops  do  not  close 
when  a  big  sale  is  being  negotiated,  I  had  no  difficulty 
in  persuading  him  to  leave  up  his  shades  until  I  could 
drive  to  his  place. 

It  is  not  every  day  that  a  great  diamond  is  sold ;  and. 
when  it  is  known  that  an  American  is  coming  to  make 
the  purchase,  the  interest  runs  high. 

Morally,  I  might  be  culpable  for  the  theft  of  the 
jewel  and  I  resolved  to  replace  it. 


268 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

I    BUY    THE    KOHINA 

1  FOUND  Breistein,  the  famous  broker,  to  be  a 
little  man,  sharp,  shrewd  and  anxious.  Mys- 
terious dealings  in  the  diamond  world  had 
made  him  like  a  ferret  in  shaking-  up  trouble,  and  he 
would  not  talk  to  me  until  he  had  conversed  with 
Morgan,  Harges  over  the  wire.  When  he  returned  his 
manner  had  changed  from  indifference  to  confidence 
and  he  talked  freely  and  with  the  fluency  of  one  who 
understands  his  trade. 

He  offered  me  a  cigar  wrapped  in  gold  foil. 

I  told  him  the  object  of  my  visit:  that  I  wished  to 
know  if  there  was  a  diamond  to  be  had  in  London 
now,  a  diamond  as  big  as  the  Hepworth. 

Yes,  there  was  the  Soudan.  It  was  bigger,  but  not 
as  brilliant,  and  so  less  valuable. 

It  would  not  do! 

He  ruminated  a  minute,  going  to  the  'phone  again. 
The  Cecil  had  been  placed  with  a  broker  and  it  was 
to  be  disposed  of;  it  was  a  pear  shaped  diamond  of 
prodigious  size ;  in  value  it  compared  with  the  Regent 
and  the  Sancy,  but  it  was  pear  shaped  and  did  not 
resemble  the  Hepworth.  This  made  it  out  of  the 
question. 

There  was  also  the  Kitchener,  which  was  over  a 
hundred  carats — not  so  large  as  the  others — but  very 
white.  The  Cape  Town,  a  blue  diamond,  could  be 

269 


THE   STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

bought  in  Paris,  if  the  buyer  would  assume  the  obliga- 
tion of  a  mortgage ;  and  a  Liverpool  broker  had  tele- 
graphed that  day  that  the  Rhodes,  a  diamond  well 
known  for  its  pinkish  caste,  had  been  put  with  him  for 
immediate  disposition ;  and  that  was  all. 

None  would  do.  I  questioned  him  closely.  He 
could  think  of  no  others.  Stay ! 

He  ran  to  the  'phone. 

"I  thought  they'd  be  anxious  to  sell  it,"  he  observed 
as  he  returned,  "they've  been  going  to  put  it  on  the 
market,  but  dreaded  the  publicity  until  recently." 

"Why  are  they  willing  to  let  it  go  now  ?"  I  asked. 

He  laughed.  "Oh,  they've  had  a  paste  diamond 
made  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  carats.  It  is  so  real 
that  a  few  feet  away  it  would  deceive  anyone  except 
an  expert,  so  they  can  dispense  with  the  real  diamond 
without  fear  of  family  exposure." 

Then  he  told  me  the  story.  An  English  prince  of 
royal  blood  had  lost  his  all  at  gambling.  To  avert  a 
scandal  his  mother  had  obtained  possession  of  her 
share  of  the  family  gems — a  single  crown  jewel — and 
had  given  it  to  the  princeling  to  sell. 

"It's  the  famous  Kohina,"  he  whispered,  afraid  that 
even  the  walls  would  hear.  "First  cousin  to  the  Kohi- 
noor  and  the  twin  stone  of  the  Hepworth." 

"Its  price?"  I  asked  feebly. 

The  reply  staggered  me ! 

Lady  Hensington  had  indeed  put  her  fortune  in  the 
Hepworth  diamond  if  she  had  paid  an  equivalent  sum. 

"I'll  take  it,"  I  said  with  a  suddenness  that  ought 
to  have  bewildered  him,  "and  yon  can  deliver  it  to 
me  in  half  an  hour  at  the  Carleton." 

270 


I  BUY  THE  KOH1NA 


He  stopped  and  thought. 

"I  can  do  it,"  he  decided.  "But  remember  that  it's 
half  an  hour  until  the  whole  hour  is  up — and  wait." 

"Trash!"  I  retorted,  "the  jewel  isn't  five  minutes 
off,  if  you  take  an  electric;  in  ten  minutes  you  can 
have  it  at  the  Carleton,  and  this  leaves  fifteen  for  acci- 
dents and  delays." 

He  looked  at  me  with  admiration.  It  was  not  his 
first  experience  in  making  a  quick  deal  with  Ameri- 
cans, but  I  had  him  going  and  I  could  see  that  the 
ferret  in  him  was  awake  and  working. 

"I'll  be  there  in  the  smoking-room  at  the  right;  but 
don't  let  any  one  see  me  pass  it  to  you ;  and  remember 
when  you're  buying  a  gem  of  royalty  that  you're  to 
keep  still  about  it  forever.  Diamonds  are  the  play  of 
young  princes  just  as  racing  is  the  sport  of  kings." 

I  promised  all  things  and  went  to  the  Carleton  at 
the  right  time.  Half  an  hour  later  he  placed  in  my 
hand  the  precious  Kohina  gem. 

"It  is  a  stone  that  has  cost  nine  lives,"  he  said, 
laughing  his  quick,  nervous  laugh,  "and  it's  been  an 
engagement  present  more  times  than  there  are  English 
kings  in  the  royal  sepulcher.  It's  said  to  bring  luck 
in  love,  if  not  at  the  tables." 

I  handed  him  an  envelope  which  meant  something  at 
the  English  bankers  and  put  the  diamond  in  my 
pocket.  It  bulged  out  like  a  plum. 

I  had  spent  a  fortune,  the  fortune  which  Florentine 
and  I  might  need,  but  I  knew  that  the  disposal  of 
money  in  this  way  could  not  have  anything  but  her 
approval. 

I  resolved  that  I  would  tell  her.  But  I  decided  to 
271 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

say  nothing  about  the  Scotland  Yard  man.  In  my 
opinion  it  was  very  doubtful  if  he  succeeded  in  getting 
back  the  Hepworth. 

When  I  went  back  to  Aunt  Faith's  house — which  I 
did  as  soon  as  possible — I  was  shown  into  the  draw- 
ing-room. There  was  a  little  more  formality  in  my 
reception  than  I  had  grown  to  expect,  and  when 
Florentine  kept  me  waiting  for  ten  minutes  my  won- 
der grew. 

As  she  entered  the  room  I  was  still  more  surprised, 
for  she  greeted  me  with  a  coolness  that  was  most  for- 
eign to  her ;  a  frigidity  that  bordered  on  hauteur. 

Her  sudden  coldness  had  driven  the  warm  impulsive 
explanation  that  was  on  my  lips  completely  out  of  my 
heart. 

"Why,  what — what  is  it?"  I  asked. 

Florentine  made  no  reply,  but  the  haughty  look 
changed  to  one  of  obstinacy;  her  face,  for  the  first 
time  since  I  had  known  her,  wore  an  expression 
which  I  did  not  understand.  She  chilled  my  marrow. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Florentine,  have  I  offended 
you?" 

Her  reply  staggered  me.  "Your  Cousin  Irene  is 
here.  She  came  at  noon.  Aunt  Faith  invited  her  to 
remain ;  she  sent  for  her  baggage." 

"Ah !"  I  observed,  with  my  heart  sinking.  It  wasn't 
a  wise  observation,  but  it  covered  the  situation,  and 
it  was  the  best  I  had  on  hand. 

"Her  luggage  arrived,"  continued  Florentine,  "and 
I  have  been  helping  her  unpack  her  boxes." 

"You — don't — say — so!"  I  exclaimed,  simulating  a 
glee  I  did  not  feel. 

272 


I  BUY   THE  KOHINA 


I  knew  there  were  breakers  ahead  and  that  they 
were  more  fatal  to  happiness  than  deep  sea  waves. 

Florentine  tossed,  actually  tossed,  her  trim  little 
silver  head.  "I  am  helping  her  unpack  her — her 
lingerie !" 

Now,  Cousin  Irene  believes  in  wearing  home-made 
underwear;  she  buys  unbleached  muslin  and  makes  it 
up  herself;  it  is  more  sensible  and  more  durable;  I 
have  often  heard  her  recommend  unbleached  muslin  to 
her  sewing  class.  So  I  received  this  news  without 
elation. 

"There's  something  I've  been  going  to  explain — 
Florentine." 

"And  she  isn't  fond  of  violet!  Still,  since  the  mat- 
ter has  gone  so  far,  and  as  we  are  to  separate  imme- 
diately after  the  ceremony,  I  don't  suppose  it  need 
matter." 

"Oh,  Florentine!"  I  cried,  throwing  a  world  of 
pleading  in  my  voice,  "I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  me 
now,  but  some  day  you  will — you  must." 

But  Florentine  was  cool.  "If  you  will  excuse  me, 
Mr.  Elliott,  I  will  go  back  and  finish  helping  your 
cousin  with  her  trunk.  I  may  discover  some  of  the 
violet  belongings  which  we  saw  in  your  apartment  this 
morning — the  heavily  scented  violet  lingerie  with 
which  your  rooms  were  so  bountifully  supplied." 


273 


CHAPTER  XXX 

SHALL  IT  BE  ORANGE  BLOSSOMS 

SHE  rose  and  I  might  have  considered  myself  dis- 
missed but  I  was  determined  not  to  let  a  thing 
like  violet  lingerie  come  between  us. 

"Florentine,"'  I  said,  "would  you  believe  me  if — if 
I  should  tell  you  the  truth?" 

"You  might  experiment,"  she  rejoined  coldly. 

"I've  been  interviewing  your  Uncle  Jason,"  she 
added. 

Again  I  uttered  the  unwise  "Ah!" 

"Yes,  and  he  tells  me  that  you  are  not  poor;  he  says 
your  grandfather  willed  you  one  fortune,  and  that 
your  father  left  you  another  and  that  your  mother  is 
very  rich  and  that  you  are  worth  a  million  pounds  at 
least  in  your  own  right." 

"That  is  five  times  what  it  would  be  in  American 
money,"  I  answered  calmly. 

"And  that  isn't  all.  He  says  you  have  a  yacht,  a 
motor  and  an  airship !" 

"Riches  fly !"  I  observed,  "and  I  want  you  to  know, 
Florentine — I  want  you  to  believe " 

She  looked  so  sulky  that  she  frightened  me.  She 
couldn't  stand  for  my  wealth. 

Here  was  a  good  chance  to  break  the  news  to  her, 
and  it  would  be  the  truth. 

"Florentine,"  I  solemnly  declared,  "I  have  some- 
thing serious  to  tell  you." 

274 


SHALL   IT  BE   ORANGE   BLOSSOMS 

My  long  visage  alarmed  her  and  the  haughty  tilt  of 
her  head  was  lowered  to  one  of  concern.  She  smiled 
and  I  could  see  the  cold  look  melt  as  dew  before  the 
sun. 

"Let  me  know  the  worst;  I  can  bear  it,"  she  said, 
and  I  saw  that  the  heroine  in  her  was  aroused. 
Woman  is  at  her  best  when  bearing  a  load;  like  the 
caryatid  that  supports  the  great  entablature  of  the 
Acropolis  of  Athens,  she  can  hold  up  her  burden  and 
smile.  Take  away  the  burden  and  she  goes  down. 

Florentine  took  a  step  toward  me,  her  face  full  of 
solicitude. 

"You  must  tell  me,"  she  repeated,  "even  though  I 
have — may  have — lost  my  regard  for  you !" 

She  tried  to  say  it  stiffly  but  failed. 

And  I  did  tell  her;  not  all,  but  enough.  I  told  her 
that  Lady  Kensington  had  lost  a  diamond — no!  not 
by  my  absence  last  night  but  through  another  source. 
And  that,  as  there  was  some  discussion  about  it,  I 
felt  in  honor  bound,  both  to  my  law  firm  at  home  and 
to  Lady  Kensington,  to  replace  it.  , 

"And  it  has  taken  a  great  deal  of  money,  perhaps 
your  fortune,"  she  cried,  with  vibrating  voice. 

It  had  taken  part,  but  it  hadn't  taken  all,  and  I  as- 
sured her  that — if  she  didn't  care  for  the  extras — we 
could  still  pull  along. 

"We  can  economize,"  she  said,  laughing  merrily  in 
a  way  that  proved  she  was  her  own  sweet  self  again. 

Yes,  we  could  economize !  I  once  asked  a  busted 
millionaire  how  he  would  begin  to  retrench.  He  said 
he  had  put  the  same  question  to  his  wife  the  night 
before.  She  said  car  fares ;  he  said  waistcoats. 

275 


I  thought  it  all  over  now  and  I  wondered  how  far 
one  could  trolley  on  the  price  of  the  Kohina ;  how 
many  times  would  a  man  have  to  lap  his  coat  over  his 
stomach  before  he  had  saved  the  price  of  the  Kohina 
in  waistcoats! 

But  if  Florentine  could  not  have  the  Kohina  she 
could  see  it.  I  drew  it  from  my  pocket  and  un- 
clasped the  leather  case.  It  lay  in  its  setting  of  black 
satin,  a  thing  of  dancing  incandescents.  It  was  as  big 
as  a  hickory. 

I  told  Florentine  she  might  take  it  in  her  hand.  To 
my  surprise  she  shook  her  head  and  turned  away. 

"I  don't  fancy  diamonds  very  much,"  she  remarked 
carelessly. 

"Don't  tell  Uncle  Jason  that  after  he  shopped  all 
the  afternoon  for  your  matched  collar.'' 

Her  expression  softened  and  then  she  looked 
straight  at  me  and  told  a  fib. 

"I  don't  like  such  big,  bright  diamonds!" 

It  was  a  heavenly  falsehood;  one  of  the  kind  that 
woman  has  told  since  the  world  began ;  a  falsehood 
built  of  the  bright  fabric  of  which  angels'  wings  are 
formed ;  a  lie  that  makes  for  love. 

There  was  a  step  outside. 

Aunt  Faith  appeared  at  the  door  and  I  had  to  speak 
to  her.  A  minute  later  I  had  a  chance  to  whisper  to 
Florentine : 

"Shall  it  be  orange  blossoms  ?" 

She  hesitated,  and  the  little  obstinate  look  came 
back  into  her  face ;  her  small  nose  lifted  a  trifle.  She 
couldn't  forget  it. 

"Anything  but  violets,"  she  observed  with  a  touch 
276 


SHALL  IT  BE  ORANGE  BLOSSOMS 

of  the  frappe  with  which  violets  will  always  be  asso- 
ciated with  her.  "I  particularly  hate  violets." 

Which  shows  that  a  woman  can  forgive  a  man  his 
bad  times,  but  never  his  good  ones. 

There  was  no  time  for  another  word  for  the  orange 
blossoms  had  arrived — I  had  ordered  them  as  a  sur- 
prise— a  great,  snowy,  fragrant  mass,  all  packed  in 
flowering  myrtle;  and  while  Florentine  hung  over 
them  with  glistening  eyes,  Irene  came  bustling  in  and 
said  that  I  must  go. 

I  protested,  but  Irene  was  firm.  There  was  much 
to  do.  The  orange  blossoms  must  go  in  water  and 
she  had  promised  Aunt  Faith  to  help  dress  the  draw- 
ing-room and  I  would  be  terribly  de  trap  at  the  best. 

Florentine  looked  rebellious  and  I  half  thought  she 
was  going  to  beg  Irene  to  let  me  stay,  for  Irene  with 
a  New  England  woman's  mania  for  taking  charge  had 
already  become  mistress  of  ceremonies ;  but  Irene  was 
more  than  obdurate.  So  I  found  my  hat  and  slipped 
away. 

At  the  door  Aunt  Faith  intercepted  me  and  invited 
me  into  her  little  reception-room  across  the  hall.  The 
dear  lady  had,  really,  no  excuse  for  stopping  me,  but 
she  wanted  to  explain,  or  apologize,  for  the  lack  of 
formality,  which  lack  was  very  unusual  in  an  English 
household,  but  I  would  understand  that  circumstances 
could  alter  cases;  and  circumstances  in  this  case  had 
been  so  very  extraordinary,  not  to  say  peculiar,  that 
— well,  the  hurried  and  informal  wedding  could  not 
be  helped! 

I  promised  to  overlook  all  and  to  pardon  all.  And 
then  she  told  me  of  an  almost  similar  instance  in  the 

277 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

family  of  the  Duke  of  Westminster,  a  thousand  years 
ago,  before  the  Duke  had  been  elevated  to  the  peer- 
age. It  wasn't  exactly  similar  but  it  served  as  a 
precedent. 

I  kindly  agreed  to  take  it  into  consideration  before 
forming  judgment. 

And  then  Aunt  Faith  wanted  to  talk  about  Uncle 
Jason,  how  handsome  he  was,  how  hearty  in  manner, 
just  like  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  so  clever! 

I  agreed  to  everything,  but  Aunt  Faith  still  wanted 
to  discuss  him. 

"And  of  noble  lineage,  too!"  she  exclaimed. 

Noble  lineage !  I  had  known  my  Uncle  Jason  all 
my  life,  but  this  was  the  first  I  had  ever  heard  of  his 
noble  lineage. 

"Why,  his  ancestor  commanded  that  vast  ship,  the 
great  Mayflower;  and  another  noble  ancestor  fought 
with  General  La  Fayette  in  the  great  war  of  the  Revo- 
lution. He  could  have  been  a  King  no  doubt  if  he 
would  have  accepted  the  title;  his  name  was  Captain 
John  Smith,  he  was  your  uncle's  uncle." 

"Uncle  Jason's  uncle  a  king!''  I  ejaculated. 

"Certainly,"  she 'answered,  "and  he  should  be  in 
Westminster  Abbey  for  his  courage  and  his — his 
daring.  Of  course,"  added  Aunt  Faith,  "it  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  the  Colonies  ever  uprose  against  England, 
but  since  they  did " 

"Better  not  mention  that  to  Uncle  Jason,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"I  did  mention  it  to  him  and  he  said — just  what  I 
knew  he  would  say — that  he  wasn't  alive  then." 

"Indeed,  no,"  I  agreed. 

278 


SHALL   IT  BE   ORANGE   BLOSSOMS 

"If  he  had  been,"  declared  Aunt  Faith,  conclusively, 
"there  would  have  been  no  war,  for  the  Colonists 
would  have  made  your  Uncle  Jason  a  king,  and  he 
would  have  come  over  and  sat  on  the  throne  with 
King  James  and " 

"Here's  Uncle  Jason  now!"  I  cried,  interrupting 
Aunt  Faith  just  in  time — for  her  history  was  dazzling, 
"and  you  can  tell  him  yourself  !" 

But  she  fled  like  a  frightened  girl.  I  afterwards 
learned  from  Florentine  that  Aunt  Faith  had  run — 
actually  dashed — upstairs  to  have  her  puffs  pinned  on 
and  her  lace  neckpiece  adjusted. 

I  went  out  and  stopped  Uncle  Jason,  who  handed 
his  box  of  red  roses  reluctantly  to  Irene,  for  he 
wanted  to  present  them  himself,  and,  since  we  were 
not  wanted,  I  suggested  that  we  go  out  for  a  stroll. 
While  we  walked,  I  explained  to  him,  as  requested 
by  Aunt  Faith,  that  such  informal  weddings  were 
most  unusual  in  the  English  aristocracy. 

"Bosh !"  was  his  reply.  "Why,  Lord  Saxe  told  me 
this  morning  that  the  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Holme 
had  run  away  with  the  sister  of  the  Duke  of  Weimer, 
and  that  the  Countess  Elizabeth  of  Saxe  eloped  with 
the  Marquis  of  Lorne-Schlesburg  after  only  two 
hours'  acquaintance.  Don't  try  to  show  your  Uncle 
Jason,  my  boy." 

When  we  turned  to  retrace  our  steps  to  the  house, 
Uncle  Jason  called  a  hansom.  "There's  some  class 
about  your  uncle  when  he's  in  London,"  he  remarked, 
stepping  in.  And  then,  only  then,  did  I  see  his 
clothes ;  he  had  garbed  himself  anew  in  latest  London 
fashion.  A  light  topcoat  of  jaunty  cut  hung  open  and 

279 


I  could  discern  a  dress  suit  of  newest  design.  I  looked 
my  surprise. 

"Braid  down  the  trouser  legs,"  he  observed,  as 
the  hansom  flew  shut  on  us.  Then  to  the  cabby,  he 
called,  "Go  slow !" 

My  uncle's  face  had  assumed  the  serious  expres- 
sion which  means  that  he  has  something  of  note  to 
say. 

"Roman,"  he  said,  "I've  got  something  to  tell  you 
and  I  suppose  I  had  better  say  it  now." 

I  had  heard  enough  and  was  quite  ready  to  dispense 
with  further  revelations;  for  I  was  within  a  few 
minutes  of  my  marriage  to  the  finest  girl  in  the  world ; 
and  it  was  pleasanter  to  look  ahead  than  to  be  jarred 
by  current  realities. 

"No  time  like  the  present,"  I  quoted. 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "it's  serious  business  and  you 
better  be  posted  on  it  before  Florry  and — and  the 
ladies — hear  about  it." 


280 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A    POINT   OF   ETHICS 

REACHING  into  his  pocket  Uncle  Jason  pulled 
out  a  big  white  sheet  of  paper.  "It's  a  bul- 
letin," he  said. 

And  while  I  looked  at  it  wonderingly,  he  told  me 
how  he  had  passed  the  Times  office  and  had  seen  a 
bulletin  that  interested  him.  Going  inside  he  had  given 
the  bill  poster  a  guinea  for  the  bulletin  and  had 
brought  it  away  entire.  There  it  was,  a  big  white 
paper  sheet,  nearly  six  feet  square,  just  as  the  bill 
poster  had  torn  it  out  of  its  frame. 

"They'd  have  had  an  extra  out  in  five  minutes  in 
my  country,"  he  remarked,  as  he  smoothed  out  the 
paper  and  tried  to  get  it  far  enough  away  for  me  to 
read  it. 

Spelling  the  great  letters  out,  as  rapidly  as  I  could ; 
this  is  what  I  saw: 

DEATH  OF  SIR  CHARLES  HADLEY. 
FOUND  MURDERED  IN  HIS  ROOM  IN 

WENTSTONE  CASTLE. 
ROBBERY    THE    MOTIVE. 

MURDERER  ESCAPES. 
BIG    DIAMOND    RECENTLY    ACQUIRED    BY 

SIR  CHARLES  MISSING. 

GREAT    DROP   IN    SEPOYS    FOLLOWING   A 

WEEK  OF  DULLNESS. 

281 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

SIR    CHARLES    HADLEY'S    MINES    FORCED 
INTO  BANKRUPTCY. 

JOHNNY     THE     AUSTRALIAN     CROOK    AT 

LARGE;  ESCAPES  FROM  THE  ROOMS 
OF  BUD  OF  BATTERSEA;  HEAVY  RECOVERY 
OF  LOOT. 

CLEWS  IMPLICATE  A  RICH  AMERICAN  IN 

THE  MURDER  OF  SIR  CHARLES  HADLEY 

AT  WENTSTONE  LAST  NIGHT. 

My  eye  followed  the  bulletin  again.  Sir  Charles 
murdered;  my  suspicions  had  come  true!  How 
much  had  I  been  to  blame  and  could  I  have  prevented 
the  tragedy?  The  stairway  on  the  wall  had  been  too 
great  a  temptation  for  the  crook.  But  it  was  the  fault 
of  Sir  Charles  after  all ;  the  gleam  of  a  diamond  has 
been  responsible  for  more  than  one  hanging.  And 
the  rich  American  toward  whom  the  finger  of  sus- 
picion pointed  !  I  did  not  dare  to  think ! 

And  Johnny  the  Australian ;  he  had  got  away.  But 
they  had  recovered  the  loot,  though  not  the  Hepworth 
or  it  would  have  been  mentioned.  It  was  too  glori- 
ous a  thing  to  have  its  light  hid  under  a  bushel. 

"I  thought  you  better  know  it  right  away,"  said 
Uncle  Jason.  "That  fellow  was  killed  just  in  time; 
he'd  have  been  arrested  by  to-morrow." 

"Do  you  mean  Sir  Charles  ?" 

For  I  had  read  the  big  lettered  bulletin  without  tak- 
ing it  in.  "Is  he — dead?" 

"Surely — read  the  top  line  !" 

"Great  Scott !"  I  exclaimed  with  sudden  realization, 
282 


A    POINT    OF  ETHICS 


"they  will  know  it  at  Aunt  Faith's.  When  did  it 
occur  ?" 

"Bulletin  just  posted.  Don't  worry  about  it,  my 
boy,  they  haven't  got  a  telephone  and  from  what 
Faith — I  mearj  Lady  Faith — tells  me,  it  will  take  a  day 
before  the  news  gets  to  her.  They  move  pretty  slow." 

I  sank  back  in  the  cab  in  a  blue  revery  and  Uncle 
Jason,  himself,  more  upset  than  he  would  have  ad- 
mitted, let  me  think. 

There  are  minds  that  work  deliberately  and  it  was 
some  minutes  before  the  scene  lay  spread  before  me; 
there  was  Sir  Charles  who  went  out  to  the  Castle  with 
the  big  diamond  in  his  possession  the  night  before, 
and  out  in  the  open  road,  before  all  those  men,  he 
had  displayed  it.  I  had  seen  him  flash  it  openly  and 
brag  about  it.  Lurking  in  the  bushes  was  Johnny,  the 
Australian  Crook!  How  plain  it  all  appeared  to  me 
now.  And  Johnny  the  Crook  had  seen  the  diamond; 
how  could  he  help  seeing  it  when  Sir  Charles  held  it 
up,  and  he  had  waited.  Then  there  came  the  time 
when  the  Castle  lay  asleep,  and  Johnny,  tempted  by 
the  ladder  on  the  wall,  had  gone  up  and  done  his 
night's  work. 

I  read  the  bulletin  again:  "Clews  implicate  a  rich 
American  in  the  murder  of  Sir  Charles." 

It  was  all  so  clear  to  me  now,  but  I  did  not  speak 
it  aloud  to  Uncle  Jason.  It  was  evident  that  he  had 
not  connected  me  with  the  American  who  had  been 
mentioned  in  the  bulletin.  But  the  line  was  ominous. 

"I  suppose  we  ought  to  tell  them,"  I  objected. 

But  to  this  Uncle  Jason  would  not  listen.  He 
didn't  want  Florentine's  wedding  spoiled  and  Sir 

283 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

Charles  was  an  old  wretch  anyway,  who  didn't  de- 
serve to  live ;  certainly  nobody  would  mourn  for  him. 
So  why  spoil  the  nuptials? 

At  last  I  agreed,  though  a  little  reluctantly,  to  think 
it  over,  and  Uncle  Jason  destroyed  the  bulletin. 

"I  wonder  who  killed  him?"  he  pondered. 

I  sat  and  reflected;  it  was  plain  to  me  that  I  could 
not  tell  my  Uncle  all  the  circumstances  attending  our 
courtship;  yet  it  grew  clearer  that  I  must  not  marry 
Florentine  without  letting  her  know  of  her  cousin's 
demise.  It  was  one  of  those  moments  in  life  when 
ethics  darken  happiness. 

She  had  first  considered  marrying  me  solely  to 
escape  falling  into  the  hands  of  her  cousin. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  pumped  out  Uncle  Jason  as 
my  cloudy  countenance  dimmed  the  cab. 

I  shook  my  head.  "It  may  make  a  difference  with 
Florentine,"  I  answered. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  my  boy,"  he  advised;  "don't  be 
a  fool;  though  I  must  say  that  you  do  come  by  it 
honestly.  Your  father  wouldn't  propose  for  three 
years  until  he  got  the  consent  of  all  the  members 
of  your  mother's  family  and  then  your  mother  put  off 
the  wedding  a  year  because  your  father's  second 
cousin  objected  to  her.  No  wonder  you're  a  damn 
fool,  Roman." 

I  sat  silent,  neither  affirming  nor  denying ;  yet  there 
was  planted  in  my  mind  the  firm  conviction  that  to 
marry  Florentine  without  letting  her  know  that  the 
one  she  married  me  to  escape  was  gone,  would  be  an 
act  to  freeze  the  ethics  of  an  atheist. 

Of  course,  there  was,  as  a  balancer,  her  own  family 
284 


A    POINT   OF   ETHICS 


trouble  of  which  we  had  agreed  not  to  speak — but 
the  man  who  buys  a  woman  through  her  misfortunes 
is  not  a  man  in  love. 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  me,"  said  my  Uncle,  lowering 
at  me  from  his  side  of  the  cab,  "what  difference  the 
death  of  that  old  reprobate  could  make  to  Florentine? 
She  isn't  going  to  be  sorry  enough  to  cry;  and  if  she 
wants  to  wear  mourning  for  him  she  can  put  a  black 
band  around  her  arm  for  thirty  days." 

Uncle  Jason  gave  a  Yankee  chuckle;  he  couldn't  or 
wouldn't  understand. 

My  only  reply  was  a  look  duller  than  before ;  a  chill 
had  fallen  upon  my  spirits;  a  something  which  I 
dared  not  to  utter  aloud. 

Uncle  Jason's  big,  comfortable  hand  was  laid  on 
my  knee. 

"What's  the  matter,  my  boy?"  he  queried,  for  it 
would  have  taken  no  artificial  lens  to  discover  the 
fact  that  I  was  wretched. 

"Tell  it  to  your  old  uncle !" 

"Nothing,"  I  answered.  * 

"Well,  let  it  be  nothing,"  he  advised,  "and  cheer 
up — the  best  is  yet  to  come." 

"I  know,  Uncle  Jason,"  I  replied,  turning  to  him, 
just  as  I  used  to  when  I  was  a  boy  and  wanted  him 
to  do  something  for  me,  for  I  felt  helpless  as  a  child 
at  this  instant.  "I  know,  Uncle  Jason,  but " 

"It's  about  that  Sir  Charles,"  he  said,  sobering  his 
voice,  "and  you  think  you  ought  to  tell  her  because 
she " 

"That's  it  exactly;  because  she  would  never  have 
been — or  might  never  have  been  engaged  to  me — 

285 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

except  that  she  was  afraid  of  him  and  wanted  to  es- 
cape from  him." 

Uncle  Jason  listened  to  argument ;  then  he  coughed 
and  flourished  his  handkerchief;  he  always  was  soft- 
hearted. 

"You're  right,  Roman;  you're  right.  And  then, 
again,  maybe  you're  wrong!" 

"I  don't  understand,  Uncle  Jason." 

I  spoke  like  a  schoolboy.  I  was  suddenly  very 
meek  and  humble;  struck  silly,  so  to  speak,  by  the 
hand  of  fate.  The  reading  of  that  bulletin  had 
changed  the  whole  horizon  for  me.  Was  I  doing  right 
to  marry  Florentine  under  the  circumstances,  or  was 
I  taking  advantage  of  her?  Would  she  have — would 
it  have  been  the  same  between  her  and  me — if  there 
had  been  no  will,  no  money,  no  Sir  Charles?  And 
was  she  marrying  me  for  love,  or  was  it  to  escape 
her  much  dreaded  cousin?  I  faltered  it  out  after  a 
fashion — with  reservations. 

Uncle  Jason  was,  for  once,  wordless.  One  broad, 
kindly  hand  rested  upon  my  shoulder,  but  my  uncle's 
voice  faltered;  he  understood  my  feelings  and  he  felt 
for  me. 

"I  suppose,"  he  coughed,  "I  know  you'd  better 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it ;  not  that  it'll  make  any  dif- 
ference to  the  girl !" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  admitted. 

And  then,  though  confessions  were  not  in  my  legal 
curriculum,  I  opened  my  lips  and  related  more.  I 
told  him  about  Lady  Kensington  and  her  trust  be- 
trayed ;  how  she  had  asked  me  to  watch  the  Hepworth 
and  the  other  wedding  presents  and  how  I  had  slipped 

286 


A   POINT   OF   ETHICS 


away — left  them — and  of  the  awful  fact  that  the 
wonderful  Hepworth  had  disappeared.  They  were 
in  my  care  and  I  had  deserted  them — for  my  own 
interests.  It  was  not  the  girl's  fault;  she  had  done 
her  part  innocently;  the  baseness  of  it  was  all  mine. 

When  I  finished  I  looked  at  Uncle  Jason,  expecting 
him  to  kick  the  cab  door  open  and  throw  me  out;  I 
was  ready  to  go  without  protest. 

To  my  surprise  he  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 
immoderately,  slapping  both  legs  with  vigor. 

"Good !"  he  roared.  "Ha,  ha !  serves  her  right !  So 
she  stood  you  up  there  to  watch  those  old  bargain 
counter  presents,  did  she?  Lady  Hensington!  Ha, 
ha!" 

"Why,  yes,"  I  returned,  deeply  offended.  "Isn't 
she  an  old  friend  of  yours,  and  didn't  you  write  and 
tell  her  to  ask  all  the  favors  of  me  she  wanted  to  ask 
and  I'd  do  them  for  your  sake?  that  is  what  Lady 
Marie  Hensington  gave  me  to  understand." 

"Nix !"  yelled  Uncle  Jason,  shouting  with  laughter. 
"And  then,  again,  maybe  I  did!  Anyway,  you're  a 
simpleton,  Roman,  and  Lady  Hensington  is  a  sharp 
one.  Ho,  ho,  when  I  knew  her  down  on  the  farm, 
thirty  years  ago,  I  called  her  Mary  Green.'' 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

FLORENTINE   DECIDES 

1  STILL  looked  dubious;  even  the  fact  that  Uncle 
Jason  knew  Lady  Kensington  when  she  was 
Mary  Green  did  not  relieve  me  from  the  dark 
burst  of  cloud  that  was  rolling  toward  me.    "I've  re- 
placed the  Hepworth,"  I  observed,  showing  him  the 
stone,  the  great  Kohina,  worth  a  king's  ransom. 

"Almighty!"  he  ejaculated,  blinking  at  it. 

"I  shall  tell  Florentine  about  her  cousin,"  I  said 
abruptly  switching  the  subject,  "and  I  shall  release 
her  from  her  engagement." 

Uncle  Jason  snorted. 

"Just  like  your  father.  He  paid  his  doctor  the  day 
before  he  died  for  fear  they'd  get  fighting  over  his 
estate  and  not  leave  enough  to  pay  the  bills.  You'll 
go  up  to  Heaven  some  day  in  a  fit  of  conscientious 
scruples." 

But  though  he  spoke  brusquely,  I  saw  in  his  firm 
face  that  he  approved  of  my  course;  the  girl  should 
be  told  and  released  from  her  obligation. 

"There's  one  thing  more,"  I  said  thickly,  and — 
though  I  don't  know  how  I  did  it — I  told  him  about 
Florentine's  mother — of  her  life — the  terrible  photo- 
graph of  her — and  how  the  whole  chain  of  Montana 
mining  camps  rang  with  her  exploits. 

"She  is  the  most  notorious  woman  in  the  States," 
I  said. 

288 


FLORENTINE   DECIDES 


"Who  said  so?"  demanded  Uncle  Jason. 

"Sir  Charles — he  showed  Florentine  a  picture  that 
prostrated  her." 

Uncle  Jason  laughed. 

"That  reminds  me  of  your  Aunt  Maria,"  he  re- 
marked, inspecting  the  toe  of  his  boot  with  critical 
attention,  "and  the  time  she  bought  a  crape  veil  for 
me.  I  was  away  two  days,  and  when  I  got  home  I 
found  her  sick  in  bed  and  the  dressmaker  cutting  out 
a  black  bombazine  dress." 

"What  was  the  matter?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  somebody  told  her  I  had  been  killed  in  a  train 
smash-up — and  she  believed  it." 

"And  it  wasn't  so?" 

"Nit!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Jason;  "it  was  the  man 
next  door.  So  your  Aunt  Maria  got  up  out  of  bed, 
paid  the  dressmaker  and  lent  the  crape  veil  to  the 
woman  next  door  whose  husband  did  get  smashed  up. 
After  that,  whenever  Aunt  Maria  got  borrowing 
trouble  I  used  to  point  to  the  box  under  the  bed  where 
she  kept  the  crape  veil.  And  it  hushed  her  up." 

There  was  a  silence  that  could  have  been  cut. 

"Anything  else?"  inquired  Uncle  Jason  jocularly. 

"Yes,  there  is,"  I  replied  doggedly,  for  there  was 
something  in  my  uncle's  receptivity  to  delight  the 
heart  of  a  man. 

And  then  I  repeated  to  him  my  ugly  threat  to  kill 
Sir  Charles  and  how  I  had  found  the  bloody  dagger 
in  the  woods  only  shortly  afterwards. 

"It's  all  circumstantial  evidence,"  I  admitted,  "but 
it's  pretty  strong." 

"Does  Florentine  know?"  asked  my  uncle. 
289 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"Yes,"  declared  I,  "and  she  is  indignant " 

A  burst  of  laughter  greeted  me. 

"Ho!  Ho!  Ho!"  roared  Uncle  Jason.  "Just  like 
your  Aunt  Maria  again.  She  married  me  the  day 
I  was  suspended — because  she  was  indignant  at  the 
faculty.  Now  it's  just  like  a  woman  to  love  a  man 
all  the  more  because  he's  going  to  get  hung  for  mur- 
der." 

Suddenly  sobering,  my  uncle  leaned  toward  me. 

"Did  you  do  it,  my  son?"  he  asked.  "If  you  killed 
him,  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me;  I'm  here,  and  we'll 
fight  it  out  together;  I'm  only  a  little  over  sixty  now, 
and  I'll  stay  here  and  help  you  till  Father  Time  draws 
the  tape  on  me  at  the  century  mark." 

"No !"  I  answered  emphatically,  "I  did  not  lay 
finger  on  him  except  in  a  square  fight!" 

"Then  shut  up — and,  remember,  not  a  word  of  this 
to  the  ladies !  Bless  me,  I'm  wiping  my  eyes !" 

We  were  near  the  house  and  Uncle  Jason  was  evi- 
dently correct  in  assuming  that  the  knowledge  of  the 
death  of  Sir  Charles  would  not  have  reached  Aunt 
Faith  so  soon,  for  as  we  turned  the  corner  we  saw 
the  lights  gleaming  from  all  the  panes,  while  darting 
shadows  told  us  that  the  mansion  was  already  in  gala 
attire. 

It  was  after  seven  o'clock  when  we  alighted  at  the 
door,  and  Uncle  Jason,  always  ready  for  dinner,  was 
getting  impatient. 

We  went  up  the  steps ;  he  quickly,  I  moodily,  for  I 
knew  that  I  must  forfeit  my  right  to  enter  as  a  bride- 
groom. 

But  we  were  greeted  in  a  way  which,  for  a  minute, 
290 


FLORENTINE  DECIDES 


upset  even  the  robust  calm  of  my  Uncle  Jason.  At 
the  head  of  the  steps  the  door  flew  open  to  us  and 
the  doorman,  usually  a  model  of  training,  pulled  us 
inside  with  a  whisper  to  keep  quiet. 

Instantly  Florentine  appeared  and  beckoned  us  into 
the  little  reception  room;  her  face  was  white,  and 
dark  shadows  lay  under  her  beautiful  eyes.  Uncle 
Jason  and  I  stepped  in  after  her.  It  was  a  critical 
moment  for  us  all,  but  she  read  our  faces  and,  before 
speaking,  she  knew  that  we  already  knew. 

"A  servant  came  from  the  Castle.  She  ran  away, 
frightened  at  the  murder,  and  came  here.  She  was 
almost  beside  herself  with  terror.  She  saw  him — it 
was  murder — they  tried  to  conceal  the  facts  at  first — 
for  the  sake  of  Aunt  Hope  and  the  others." 

"And  she  told  you— all?" 

Florentine  tried  to  speak,  but  it  was  difficult.  Her 
cousin's  life  had  been  an  unpleasant  one,  and  for 
years  she  had  scarcely  known  him.  But  the  shock  of 
it,  the  suddenness,  the  tragedy,  had  told  upon  the  dear 
girl's  already  tired  nerves.  But  it  was  evident  that 
she  did  not  associate  the  diamond  with  his  death. 

Florentine  gave  me  an  appealing  glance.  Uncle 
Jason  saw  it  and  slipped  out  into  the  hall ;  I  looked  at 
her  and  she  at  me. 

"It  is  awful  for  us  all — but  I  must  bear  it  alone; 
it  would  be  cruel  to  tell  Aunt  Faith  now,  when  she 
is  so  happy — and  it  would  do  no  good.  Can  we  not 
wait,  or  is  it  all  over  now?" 

There  was  something  dubious  in  the  last  words,  or, 
rather,  in  the  tone  in  which  they  were  spoken.  I  re- 
solved to  have  the  matter  settled  at  once. 

291 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"And  now,  Florentine,"  I  asked,  "what  is  it  to  be?" 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  release  you,"  she  said,  ''since 
you  were  marrying  me  to  save  me  from  him.  But  it 
is  so  hard,  and  I  am  so — alone!" 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  I  asked. 

Florentine  began  to  cry,  but  her  head  was  upon  ray 
shoulder  and  crying  is  a  pleasant  pastime  for  a 
woman  when  the  man's  shoulder  is  her  own. 

"I  can't  let  you  go,"  she  sobbed. 

"Neither  can  I,"  I  exclaimed  idiotically,  "and  I 
wouldn't  if  I  could." 

She  suddenly  smiled. 

"Be  careful  not  to  alarm  Aunt  Faith,"  she  cau- 
tioned; and  then  she  would  have  slipped  away,  but  I 
detained  her. 

"Florentine,"  I  asked,  "if  a  dark  suspicion  should 

be  thrown  upon  me — you  would  not  believe " 

The  words  came  hard.  "You  would  not  think  me 
guilty  of — anything?" 

"Not  even  of  murder!" 

"Not  even  of — murder?"  I  repeated. 

It  was  out  at  last. 

"No!"  she  said  sharply,  and  I  saw  that  she  under- 
stood. "Never !" 

"You  know  that  Sir  Charles  was  killed — at  almost 
the  very  hour  I  was  waiting  for  you  in  the  woods — 
and  that — well !  I  had  no  cause  to  love  him !" 

"You  didn't  do  it,"  she  exclaimed,  "and  if  you  had 
you  would  have  done  it  to  save  me." 

And  then  she  darted  away  and  was  gone. 

When  I  went  out  into  the  hall  I  found  Uncle  Jason 
still  hanging  up  his  coat.  He  was  humming  a  love 

292 


FLORENTINE  DECIDES 


song,  the  chorus  of  which  ran,  "There's  only  one  girl 
in  the  world  for  me." 

And  in  the  drawing-room  door  stood  Irene,  calm 
and  confident ;  I  felt  surer  all  of  a  sudden. 

"I  love  you,  Cousin  Irene,"  I  declared,  "and  Flor- 
entine will  love  you  too;  you  are  such  a  comfort  to 
us."  I  had  stopped  worrying  for  the  moment. 

"She  already  loves  me,"  said  Irene,  "and  she  gave 
me  these." 

I  followed  Irene's  practical  forefinger  until  it  rested 
upon  the  neck  of  her  gown. 

"She  gave  me  her  string  of  pearls;  they're  inside 
the  neck  of  my  dress.  I  prefer  to  wear  them  inside ; 
they  are  safer  and  I  don't  intend  to  part  with  them — > 
ever." 

I  told  Irene  that  I  was  glad  Florentine  gave  her 
the  pearls. 

"But  why  don't  you  wear  them  where  they  can  be 
seen?" 

"They're  safer  inside,"  decided  Irene,  "and  I'm 
going  to  wear  them  there.  The  President  of  the 
Ladies'  Club  bought  some  pearls  in  Italy  when  she 
was  on  her  wedding  tour.  She  has  worn  them  under 
the  yoke  of  her  dress  for  twenty  years." 

"Very  well,  Irene,"  I  remarked,  "wear  them  where 
you  please." 

Irene  smiled  the  gratified  smile  of  a  woman  who 
has  proved  her  point. 

"Now,"  cried  she,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  girl 
fashion,  "I  want  you  to  see  the  decorations;  I  don't 
believe  you  have  noticed  them  yet.  Come  and  take 
notice." 

293 


I  turned  to  Uncle  Jason. 

"You're  all  right,  my  boy,"  said  he.  "You're  all 
right!  She'd  have  married  you  if  you  had  been 
walled  up  in  a  dungeon  and  she  had  had  to  go  and 
break  down  the  door." 

I  am  rather  glad  she  was  not  compelled  to  take  any 
such  strenuous  action,  I  thought,  as,  impelled  by 
Irene,  I  began  to  "take  notice"  of  the  drawing-room. 

"The  girl  is  a  bargain,"  said  Uncle  Jason,  "and 
I'll  take  her  part  against  you  any  time,  if  you  don't 
come  up  to  her  specifications — if  you  ain't  the  bar- 
gain package  she  thinks  she's  drawing — you  tell  her 
she  can  send  me  a  wireless  and  I'll  come  and  get  her; 
that  girl  can  be  my  niece  any  day." 

But  Irene  had  dragged  me  out  of  ear-shot.  And 
now,  my  eyes  were  needed  for  the  sights.  The  little 
house  was,  indeed,  all  rejoicing,  for  Irene  had  proved 
herself  no  inefficient  hand  at  management,  and  an  air 
of  wedding  festivity  hung  over  the  mansion.  Even 
the  wedding  bell  was  present,  for  Irene,  by  some 
legerdemain,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  near-by  florist, 
had  achieved  a  floral  bell  which  for  size  and  pictur- 
esqueness  left  nothing  lacking.  I  wondered  how  Flor- 
entine and  I  would  look  standing  under  it,  and  how 
\ve  should  feel  if  it  should  fall.  Irer^  read  my 
fears. 

"I  built  it  on  father's  umbrella,"  she  said,  now  fully 
recovered  and  delighted  at  an  appreciative  audience. 
"And  it's  as  firm  as  Gibraltar.  We  covered  the  han- 
dle with  lilies  and  hung  a  lily  on  each  spoke.  The  top 
is  partly  green  paper  and  partly  roses.  The  florist 
didn't  have  enough  green  leaves  to  cover  it." 

•294 


FLORENTINE  DECIDES 


"Don't  tell  me  any  more,  Irene,"  I  replied.  "Let 
my  imagination  play." 

Her  face  fell. 

"You  are  a  wizard,"  I  added,  "and  you've  turned 
two  prosy  beings  into  Fairy  King  and  Queen  with 
your  umbrella  wand  and  your  green  paper." 

Irene  smiled  as  delightedly  as  a  child  with  a  toy. 

"We  are  most  ready  now"  she  exclaimed,  giving  a 
lily  a  final  nudge. 

"Where's  Mr.  Pancoast?"  I  inquired.  "I  shall  never 
feel  sure  of  our  nuptials  until  I  see  him  on  the  spot, 
safe  and  sane." 

A  sigh  was  distinctly  to  be  heard. 

"He  is  in  the  reception-room  across  the  hall,"  said 
Irene,  "and  I  am  afraid  he  heard  you." 

I  looked  over  into  the  little  room  and  there  sat 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Pancoast.  Stepping  across  the  hall  I 
accosted  him.  He  did  not  reply,  and  a  shock  went 
through  me  for  he  sat  with  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands,  his  shoulders  shaking,  and  the  tears  trickling 
through  his  long  thin  fingers.  I  touched  his  arm  and 
asked  him  what  was  the  matter.  He  shook  his  head 
and  I  caught  the  words,  "Man  cometh  up  as  a  flower 
and  is  desperately  wicked." 

I  thought  of  the  orgy  of  the  night  before  and  a 
sympathetic  feeling  warmed  me. 

"Does  your  head  ache?"  I  asked. 

"It  splits!"  he  replied. 

"Cheer  up,"  I  urged,  but  his  depression  was  of  a 
kind  that  knows  no  sudden  cheer;  the  gloom  must 
wear  off. 

I  turned  and  found  Irene  by  my  side. 
295 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  them,  Aunt  Hope  and  Aunt 
Charity?''  she  inquired. 

I  briefly  explained  the  matter  to  Irene,  thus: 

"This  is  practically  an  elopement,"  I  declared,  "only 
we  preferred  to  elope  to  the  house  of  Aunt  Faith  and 
.have  you  and  Uncle  Jason  among  those  present." 

"That  is  the  way  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  Dorcas 
eloped,"  confided  Irene,  "and  it  was  most  satisfactory; 
saved  all  the  bother  and  there  were  no  wedding  pres- 
ents to  be  exchanged  afterwards." 

Here  Irene  produced  a  spray  of  myrtle  which  Flor- 
entine  had  sent  down  as  a  boutonniere  for  me;  Irene 
fastened  it  on. 

"I  am  pressing  an  orange  blossom,"  said  she,  "for 
the  Ladies'  Club.  They  never  saw  a  real  orange 
blossom  in  Beverly;  they  always  get  married  in  paper 
ones." 

And  now,  for  miracles  will  happen  even  in  these 
days,  there  was  a  step  upon  the  staircase  and  we  heard 
a  dainty  rustle.  Irene  looked  and  gave  a  cry  of  sur- 
prise and  disapproval,  but  Uncle  Jason  and  I  spoke  our 
delight. 

For  it  was  Florentine!  And,  of  course,  she 
shouldn't  have  been  seen,  for  a  bride  should  be  invis- 
ible until  the  last  moment.  But  there  she  was,  all 
dressed  in  a  wedding  gown  which  had  lain  these 
years  in  Aunt  Faith's  treasure  chest  waiting  for  this 
day!  I  opened  my  mouth  to  speak.  No  sound  came 
forth  but  I  am  free  to  confess  that  the  blood  flooded 
my  face  a  joyful  red.  But  Florentine  had  no  eyes 
for  me.  She  had  a  message  for  Uncle  Jason  and  her 
lips  were  parted  in  an  anticipatory  smile  that  should 

296 


FLORENTINE  DECIDES 


have  warmed  his  soul.  In  her  hand  Florentine  held 
a  red  rose,  and  she  extended  it  to  Uncle  Jason. 

"Come  and  get  it,"  she  challenged  him,  standing  on 
the  bottom  step  of  the  stairs.  ''Aunt  Faith  sent  it  to 
you  and  she  wants  you  to  wear  it." 

Uncle  Jason  jumped  as  if  electrified. 

"Sure,  I'll  wear  it,"  he  exclaimed,  "come  here  and 
pin  it  on  me,  Florry !  Fix  it  so  it  looks  nice !" 

Florentine  laughed  as  she  came  to  him  with  the 


rose. 

art 


I'd  kiss  you,  Florry,"  he  said,  'but  there's  some- 
thing on  my  mind." 

"Plenty  of  time  for  that  later,"  I  observed. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Roman,  but  listen  to  me;  I  for- 
got to  tell  you."  Uncle  began  a  narrative  that  for 
positive  interest  held  me  spellbound.  Florentine,  in- 
tent on  pinning  Aunt  Faith's  rose  to  his  lapel,  stopped 
and  listened  with  the  rose  held  suspended  in  mid- 
air. 

Yet  the  communication  was  commonplace  enough ; 
certainly  Uncle  Jason  had  no  idea  of  the  tumult  it 
created — the  actual  cataract  of  joy  and  contrition — 
in  the  hearts  of  Florentine  and  me. 

I  don't  recall  his  words  but  they  were  to  the  effect 
that  he  had  stopped  around  at  my  rooms  to  leave  some 
packages,  some  wonderful  bargains  he  had  bought, 
and  that  while  he  was  there,  the  manager,  evidently 
much  impressed  by  Uncle  Jason's  robust  personality, 
judging  from  the  narrative,  had  come  out  to  interview 
him. 

"They're  all  cut  up,"  declared  my  Uncle,  "about 
that  affair  of  last  night." 

297 


"What  affair?''  I  asked  feebly  for  Florentine  was 
listening,  rose  held  aloft. 

"That  affair  about  the  little  actress — the  girl  they 
accidentally  put  in  your  rooms  while  you  were 
away.  They  got  her  out  early  this  morning  but  the 
management  is  all  upset  about  it.  They're  charging 
you  three  times  as  much  as  the  apartment  is  worth, 
and  now,  they're  afraid  you'll  leave  because  they  put 
that  highflier  of  a  girl  in  your  room  by  mis- 
take." 

Uncle  Jason  paused.  I  looked  at  Florentine.  The 
dear  girl  drew  a  long  breath — was  it  a  sigh  of  relief  ? 
— and  began  industriously  pinning  the  rose. 

"I  told  them,"  went  on  Uncle  Jason,  "that  it  was  a 
damn  shame,  all  right.  Excuse  my  French,  this  time, 
Florry — you  can't  teach  an  old  parrot  to  quit  such 
language — and  that  I  wouldn't  blame  you  if  you 
moved  right  out  of  their  place.  But  I  guessed,  being 
that  you  were  going  to  get  married  and  felt  amiable, 
that  you'd  excuse  them  this  time,  if  they  wouldn't  let 
it  happen  again." 

"Happen  again !"  I  exclaimed  sharpfy,  "I  should 
think  not !" 

Florentine  gave  a  start  of  indignation  and  the  pin 
slipped  and  went  right  through  the  coat  and  into  her 
pretty  thumb. 

"Happen  again,"  I  repeated.  "If  they  ever  do  let 
such  a  thing  happen  in  my  rooms  again !''  I  ground 
my  teeth. 

Uncle  Jason  looked  down  at  Florentine  and  caught 
the  look  of  rebellion  in  her  flashing  eyes,  also  the  flush 
of  anger  of  her  usually  tranquil  brow,  and  these  signs, 

298 


taken  with  the  pricked  finger,  conveyed  a  clue  to  my 
uncle's  nimble  wits. 

"That's  what  I  told  'em,  Roman!  I  said  it  was  a 

damn Aunt  Maria  used  to  make  me  say  'darning 

needles' — shame  to  treat  you  that  way.  And  I  told 
'em  you  never  did  care  for  little  actresses,  not  even 
in  your  salad  days,  hey,  my  boy!" 

A  vigorous  wink  from  my  uncle  accentuated  this 
statement,  and  Florentine  looking  at  him,  and  just 
missing  the  wink,  gave  him  a- glance  of  thanks.  And 
now,  the  pin  driven  home  by  certain  fingers  held  fast 
the  stem  of  the  rose  and  its  glowing  petals  stood 
proudly  in  place  upon  Uncle  Jason's  lapel ;  a  stunning 
red  emblem  sent  to  him  from  the  depths  of  the  ap- 
preciative heart  of  Aunt  Faith. 

"It  will  do!"  said  Florentine. 

"It  will  do,  fine,"  echoed  Uncle  Jason. 

A  tug  at  Florentine's  gown  recalled  us  all  to  the 
present.  It  was  Irene,  a  more  or  less  patient  witness 
of  that  which,  to  her  practical  mind,  seemed  a  waste  of 
time  and  energy. 

"If  you  intend  to  be  married "  she  wailed. 

"I'm  coming,  Irene,"  said  Florentine,  and  up  the 
stairs  they  disappeared. 

At  that  instant  there  was  a  sound  at  the  door  bell. 

Could  anything  else  have  happened !  What  could 
come  to  disturb  us  at  this  hour?  I  opened  the  door 
myself.  On  the  step  outside  stood  a  tall,  well  built, 
wiry  looking  man. 

It  was  a  messenger,  a  stern  faced  man  who  must 
speak  to  me  at  once.  I  conversed  with  him  in  an  un- 

299 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

dertone  and  the  import  of  his  words  was  such  that 
I  deemed  it  expedient  to  accompany  him. 

Though  the  day  had  been  one  of  ordeals  I  felt  that 
the  most  trying  of  all  was  now  to  come ! 

"Anything  wrong  ?"  asked  Uncle  Jason  anxiously  as 
I  hastily  explained  the  situation  while  I  flung  on  my 
coat. 

"Yes,  and  no!"  I  replied;  "delay  matters  a  few  min- 
utes if  you  can.  There  is  no  alternative  for  me  but 
to  go." 

"Go  where?" 

"It's  her  mother!  She's  here  in  London  and  she 
insists  on  seeing  me." 

I  acted  mechanically,  as  one  who  is  stricken  numb 
of  sensation  by  dread.  Florentine's  mother,  the 
woman  who  was  the  direct  cause  of  so  much  misery 
to  her,  had  sent  for  me.  And  her  messenger  was  there 
waiting  to  take  me. 

"I'm  coming,"  I  said,  keeping  him  outside  until  I 
could,  after  a  few  directions  to  Uncle  Jason,  join  him. 


300 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

AN    INTERVIEW    WITH    HER    MOTHER 

THE  door  closed  behind  us  shutting  out  the 
light  and  we  groped  our  way  down  the 
steps  wet  with  the  fog. 

In  the  street  stood  a  splendid  touring  car,  and,  as 
I  glanced  at  it,  my  guide  uttered  a  curt : 

"Get  in!" 

A  ribald  woman  passed  with  a  word  on  her  lips  and 
I  shuddered;  the  horror — the  dread  of  what  was  to 
come  was  upon  me! 

He  followed  me  and  closed  the  door  giving  no  di- 
rection, but  immediately  the  car  started,  going  at  rapid 
pace !  My  guide  said  no  more  but  his  assumption  of 
authority  irritated  me. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  asked. 

He  looked  at  me  grimly: 

"I  am  her  brother,"  he  replied. 

"The  brother  of " 

"Of  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Hadley " 

"Whom  we  are  going  to  see?"  I  persisted. 

"Yes!"  he  said  shortly  and  lapsed  into  silence. 
He  had  taken  the  seat  opposite  me  and  I  studied  him. 
He  was  big  and  strong,  well  built  of  body  and  serious 
of  expression,  but  his  face  looked  to  me  ominously 
grim  as  I  furtively  stared  at  him.  I  noticed  that  his 
deep  complexion  and  well  developed  hands  were  those 

301 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

of  a  man  who  has  lived  in  the  open.  His  dress,  1 
was  pleased  to  observe,  was  correct,  and  his  voice, 
when  he  spoke,  was  that  of  a  gentleman. 

"Are  we  going  far?''  I  queried  impatiently,  "for  I 
am — I  have  an  engagement — an  urgent — • — " 

"I  know,"  he  interrupted,  "but  it  can  wait;  it  wrill 
have  to  wait!'' 

As  he  spoke  he  threw  open  the  motor  door  with  a 
free  and  accustomed  motion  of  his  hand,  and  to  my 
surprise,  I  saw  that  the  car  had  stopped.  We  had  not 
gone  two  squares,  and  we  were  halted  in  front  of  a 
house  whose  front  windows  almost  commanded  a 
view  of  Aunt  Faith's  domicile. 

I  stepped  out  and  looked  up;  the  building  was  a 
modern  apartment  of  most  exclusive  air.  The  win- 
dows were  richly  but  quietly  curtained  and  at  the 
door  stood  a  lackey  whose  livery  denoted  the  char- 
acter of  the  house  within. 

Too  surprised  for  words  I  followed  my  guide — 
whom  I  could  not  yet  address  by  name — into  the 
lift  and  up  to  the  floor  above.  He  walked  through 
the  wide  and  splendid  hall,  I  following  after  in  that 
daze  of  mystery  and  dread  which  a  man  feels  when  he 
is  going  to  face  the  unfaceable. 

"How  had  the  woman  obtained  entrance  to  this 
house  and  what  would  she  have  to  say  to  me !" 

I  braced  myself  for  the  ordeal,  for  my  guide  had 
flung  open  a  door ;  at  the  same  time  he  half  pushed  me 
in,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  drawing-room  which, 
though  small  in  size,  was  of  such  richness  that  I  could 
but  note  it.  Yet,  in  spite  of  its  splendor,  there  was  an 
overnote  of  deep  refinement. 

302 


AN  INTERVIEW   WITH   HER   MOTHER 

Too  well,  I  knew  that  no  place,  however  well 
guarded,  could  be  sure  of  keeping  its  doorstep 
clean. 

I  stood  inside  the  door,  and  as  my  eyes  became  ac- 
customed to  the  light,  I  noticed,  standing  at  one  of 
the  windows,  a  slight  figure. 

It  was  a  lady;  she  was  small  and  delicate;  even 
against  the  window  pane,  I  saw  that  she  was  willowy 
of  build;  her  hair,  which  was  combed  softly  back, 
was  a  silver  grey  and  she  wore  a  bonnet  at  the  front  of 
which  gleamed  a  snow-white  widow's  ruche.  She 
might  not  have  been  over  forty  but  her  widow's  veil, 
her  plain  black  gown  and  the  simple  white  bands  at 
her  throat  and  wrist  made  her  look  much  older. 

She  was  almost  within  arm's  reach  of  me  yet  she 
did  not  speak.  Her  face,  which  was  of  transparent 
whiteness,  was  turned  away  and  I  noticed  that  the 
hand  which  held  her  handkerchief  to  her  lips  was  as 
delicate  as  the  hand  of  an  invalid. 

I  waited  in  some  embarrassment. 

She  took  a  step  toward  me  but  did  not  extend  her 
hand. 

"Pardon  me,"  she  uttered  softly,  "but  the  occasion 
— the  trial  is  almost  more  than  my  frail  strength  can 
endure." 

I  placed  a  chair  for  her  and  murmured  something. 

"You  are  Mr.  Roman  Elliott,"  said  she,  "and  you 
are  from  Boston?" 

"Yes,  Madame !"  I  replied. 

"I  sent  for  you " 

Her  voice  was  the  feeble  one  of  a  sick  woman,  an 
invalid  of  numbered  days,  and  to  my  fancy  it  seemed 

303 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

far  away  as  though  it  had  preceded  its  owner  into  a 
shadow  land. 

"I  came  to  see  Mrs.  Hadley,"  I  interrupted;  "there 
is  some  mistake,  madame!" 

"I  am  Mrs.  Hadley,  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Hadley," 
she  continued  with  an  effort, — "the  mother  of  Flor- 
entine." 

"Madame !"  I  exclaimed  rising  and  bowing,  "let  me 
pay  you  my  respects — and  congratulate  you '' 

"Do  not,"  she  answered,  motioning  me  back  to  my 
seat.  "The  time  is  short  and  my  strength  is  almost 
gone." 

It  seemed  preposterous  and  I  could  not  adjust  my- 
self to  it. 

I  would  have  stopped  her  but  with  a  gesture  she 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  proceed,  and  for  the  next  ten 
minutes  she  held  me  spellbound,  her  brother  standing 
guard  in  the  background.  Her  speech,  though  rapid 
and  at  times  incoherent,  as  she  related  her  story, 
bespoke  a  woman  who  has  lived  a  lifetime  of  ultra 
refinement, — weak,  perhaps,  wholly  unassertive,  yet 
a  lady  to  her  soul's  core.  Her  accent,  the  broad 
vowels,  her  selection  of  words,  all  told  of 
the  woman  who,  through  all  her  trouble,  has  preserved 
her  moral  tone,  if  not  her  self-assertiveness. 

"It  seems  late  to  tell  you  what  I  must  say,"  she  re- 
sumed, "but  I  know  you  are  about  to  marry  my  daugh- 
ter and  there  are  things  that  should  be  uttered.  No," 
in  answer  to  my  unspoken  word,  "I  will  not  go  to  her ; 
it  is  better  not.  I  am  as  dead."  She  coughed  violently 
and  a  maid  brought  her  a  glass  of  water. 

"It  was  not  always  with  me  as  it  is  now,"  she  con- 
304 


AN   INTERVIEW    WITH   HER   MOTHER 

tinued  faintly;  "when  I  was  married  it  was  with  pros- 
pects as  bright  as  those  that  now  lie  before  my  daugh- 
ter. But  they  faded." 

''Do  not  tell  me  now " 

She  stopped  me  with  a  gesture. 

"Florentine's  father  and  I  did  not  get  on  well.  I 
was  too  timid,  too  shrinking,  and  I  cowered  from  the 
life  of  London.  I  would  not  take  my  place  in  Eng- 
lish society,  and  his  sisters,  who  had  looked  forward 
to  it,  condemned  me.  I  was  to  blame.  But  we  drifted 
apart.  I  took  my  baby,  and  leaving  my  money  be- 
hind me,  I  went  home  to  Boston — that,  too,  is  my  na- 
tive city !  But  I  took  care  to  guard  the  child's  future 
by  settling  an  annuity  upon  her;  upon  that  she  has 
lived. 

"It  is  a  strange  time  to  tell  you  all  this — but  you  see 
it  was  as  sudden  to  me  as  it  was  to  you." 

Painfully  she  resumed. 

"But  her  English  relatives  wanted  her.  I  was  al- 
lowed to  keep  her  on  condition  that,  at  her  father's 
death,  I  would  send  her  back  to  England  to  be  brought 
up  by  her  aunts.  I  fought  it  bitterly  but  there  were 
accusations  brought  and  threats  made.  And,  under 
the  stress  of  it  all,  my  health  failed ;  at  the  same  time 
Florentine's  father  died. 

"While  I  was  prostrated  they  brought  the  child 
back  to  England ;  it  was  a  year  before  I  knew  it,  for 
my  condition  was  so  feeble  that  I  could  hear  nothing. 

"When  I  could  be  moved  my  brother  came  for  me 
and  took  me  in  his  private  car  out  to  his  home  in 
Montana.  It  is  a  magnificent  estate,  high  in  the 
mountains  and  secluded  from  the  world  so  that,  shel- 

3°5 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

tered  there  I  recovered.  But  my  spirit  was  gone. 
And  even  when  my  physical  health  improved,  I  con- 
tinued to  live  the  life  of  a  recluse." 

She  stopped. 

"But  you  will  recover — you  are  better  now !" 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  sad  smile. 

"I  shall  be  no  better — ever,"  she  replied.  "But  I 
knew  that  I  could  not  die — nor  live — unless  I  had 
seen  the  husband  of  my  child — the  man  who  is  to 
take  my  daughter's  happiness  into  his  hands." 

"I  am  afraid  I  cannot  say  much  for  myself,"  I  re- 
sponded, "except  that  I  love  her." 

"It  is  enough — and  to  know  that  you  are  not  marry- 
ing her  for  that  foolish  fortune — which  she  will  never 
need." 

"You  are  right,"  I  returned  humbly.  "She  will  not 
need  the  fortune ;  I  have  already  arranged  for  her  to 
dispose  of  it — elsewhere — in  any  way  she  pleases." 

My  hostess  did  not  hear  me. 

"I  will  not  detain  you  longer,"  she  said  rising. 

"But,  surely,  you  are  going  to  see  Florentine." 

Again  she  shook  her  head  with  the  same  sad  smile. 

"I  am  not  able — it  would  be  too  much — I  return  at 
once.  I  cannot  live  in  these  altitudes,  in  the  high 
mountain  air  of  Montana  perhaps,  for  a  little  while — " 

"But  we  may  come  to  see  you " 

"Yes,"  she  agreed  hesitatingly,  "but  it  is  like  lifting 
a  chapter  from  the  past.  Oh,  do  not  think,"  she  added, 
her  voice  growing  stronger,  "that  I  have  been  forget- 
ful of  my  daughter.  Her  governess  was  in  my  em- 
ploy; her  maid  was  my  maid;  twice  a  year  her  uncle 
has  crossed  to  see  her — all  unknown  to  Florentine.  The 

306 


AN   INTERVIEW   WITH   HER   MOTHER 

law — and  my  weak  consent — foolishly  took  her  from 
me  but  I  never  gave  her  up.  It  was  only  recently  that 
I  received  word  that  they  were  going  to  force  a  mar- 
riage upon  her  before  her  twenty-first  birthday. 

"And,  though  I  have  not  left  my  room  a  dozen 
times  in  as  many  years,  I  made  a  last  effort  for  this 
journey.  This  apartment,  as  you  see,  was  in  readi- 
ness for  me.  My  brother  has  kept  it  all  these  years  in 
anticipation  of  just  such  a  moment  as  this." 

She  paused  and  bowed,  slightly  supporting  her- 
self with  her  hand  on  a  chair  back. 

I  thought  that  she  did  not  know  Sir  Charles  or  had 
forgotten  him  and  I  mentally  resolved  that  I  would 
not  disturb  her  by  mentioning  his  name ;  but  I  was 
mistaken  in  thinking  her  uninformed. 

"I  fear  my  daughter  has  had  much  trouble  with  her 
Cousin  Charles,"  she  said.  "Poor  fellow,  I  remem- 
ber him  as  such  an  unfortunate — such  an  ill-tempered 
boy!" 

I  wanted  to  burst  forth  and  tell  her  all,  but  delicacy 
forbade.  This  spirituelle  creature  whose  heart  had 
been  broken  years  before  could  stand  no  agitation. 

"I  am  not  to  tell  Florentine?"  I  queried  again  for 
her  manner  and  tone  had  all  indicated  that  our  con- 
versation was  to  be  preserved  inviolate. 

"Not     yet — some  time — perhaps — when    you    come 


She  motioned  me  away,  and  I  saw  that  I  must  go. 

And  so  I  left  her  standing  there.  She  was  like  a 
wraith  of  memory,  a  delicate  dream-woman,  so 
ethereal  that  as  I  whizzed  back  in  the  automobile 
which  waited  for  me  at  the  door,  I  could  hardly  be- 

307 


THE   STAIRWAY  ON   THE   WALL 

lieve  that  I  had  been  conversing  with  a  woman  of 
flesh  and  blood. 

But  I  had  seen  Florentine's  mother  and  a  great 
wave  of  thanksgiving  rose  within  me.  I  longed  to  tell 
the  dear  girl,  to  tell  Aunt  Faith,  Uncle  Jason — every- 
body. 

And  even  in  my  happiness  I  found  room  to  anathe- 
matize Sir  Charles! 

At  the  portal  of  Aunt  Faith's  house  Uncle  Jason 
was  waiting  for  me.  He  opened  the  door  and,  with 
a  hearty  shoulder  grasp,  he  demanded: 

"What  news  ?" 

"All's  well!"  I  ejaculated  so  fervently  that  he 
gave  me  a  double  hand  clasp. 

"Thank  God !"  he  said  with  another  mighty  grasp. 

But  now  they  are  assembling  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  Mr.  Pancoast,  assisted  to  his  feet  by  me,  had 
struggled  into  his  cassock  and  surplice,  but  his  feelings 
were  still  of  the  most  mournful.  Reluctantly  he 
donned  the  white  satin  neckpiece,  insisting  as  he  put 
it  on,  that  man  was  prone  to  err,  and  that  his  experi- 
ence of  seventy- four  years  had  only  confirmed  him  in 
this  opinion. 

As  we  were  putting  on  the  final  touches  and  were 
waiting  for  the  bride — Irene  wanted  to  play  the  "Lo- 
hengrin" but  I  begged  her  not  to — there  came  a  mes- 
senger with  a  note  from  Lady  Kensington.  She  knew 
where  I  was  for  I  had  'phoned  her;  also  that  I  would 
replace  the  Hepworth.  The  note,  on  Lady  Kensing- 
ton's best  stationery  and  in  her  most  conciliatory  tone, 
read: 


308 


My  dear  Roman : 

"I  take  the  earliest  opportunity  to  congratulate  you  on 
the  return  of  the  silver;  your  work  as  a  detective  was 
highly  successful,  and  Scotland  Yard  is,  I  hear,  anxious 
to  secure  your  permanent  services.  The  gold  goblet  was 
brought  back  this  morning  and  the  chest  of  silver  fol- 
lowed. They  found  both  at  the  address  you  gave  them, 
but  the  man  they  call  'Johnny,  the  Australian  Crook,'  was 
not  captured.  You  did  a  splendid  piece  of  detective  'busi- 
ness,' as  the  man  from  Scotland  Yard  calls  it;  and  now, 
please  forgive  me  for  any  haste  I  may  have  shown  or 
any  impatience.  It  was  more  than  kind  of  you  to  offer 
to  replace  the  Hepworth,  and  you  can  bring  the  diamond 
to  me  here  as  soon  as  you  have  purchased  it.  I  am  really 
sorry  you  will  have  to  expend  so  much  money,  but  you 
understand  my  distressing  position.  My  congratulations. 
Sometime  you  must  explain  it  all  to 

"Yours  ever  gratefully, 

"MARIE  KENSINGTON." 

"P.S. — Pardon  my  postscript,  but  I  add  a  line  to  say 
that  I  am  still  heart-broken  about  the  turquoise  brooch. 
It  seems  that  Johnny  the  Crook  took.it,  but  it  was  sold 
by  a  woman  pal  of  his.  It  was  a  lovely  pale  blue  tur- 
quoise, set  in  a  white  silver  filigree  setting,  and  it  was, 
I  should  say,  as  big  as  an  after-dinner  coffee  saucer  or 
an  American  trade  dollar." 

I  read  the  note  through  twice;  then  Irene  tapped 
at  the  door  and  we  hustled  into  the  large  drawing- 
room. 

Of  course  Florentine  was  there.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  sufficient  to  say  that  she  was  there — and  to  stop, 
for  from  the  minute  she  entered  the  room  with  Aunt 
Faith  I  had  eyes  for  no  one  else,  and  I  do  not  think 
that  any  one  else  had — except  Uncle  Jason,  who 
stepped  out  of  his  place  along  the  wall — out  of  the 

309 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

ranks  so  to  speak — to  pick  up  a  red  rose  which  Aunt 
Faith  had  dropped  from  her  corsage. 

And  then,  after  a  rustle  and  a  stillness,  the  cere- 
mony began.  I  heard  with  one  ear,  but  with  the  other 
I  listened  for  a  ring  at  the  door  bell.  I  was  "under 
suspicion,"  as  the  bulletin  had  been  read  and  bad  news 
travels  fast. 

Mr.  Pancoast  is  considerably  over  six  feet  tall,  and 
as  he  towered  above  us  in  surplice  and  stole,  we  could 
have  been  excused  for  feeling  awed;  but  what  then 
was  our  dismay  to  hear  the  opening  lines  come  rolling 
forth  thus : 

"Lord,  let  me  know  mine  end,  and  the  number  of 
my  days,  that  I  may  be  certified  how  long  I  have  to 
live.  Man  that  is  born  of  woman  hath  but  a  short 
time  to  live,  and  is  full  of  misery." 

I  glanced  furtively  at  Florentine. 

"My  God,  he  is  burying  us  alive !"  I  whispered. 

"Hush!"  softly  said  The-Lady-Who-Instructs-Me. 

Mr.  Pancoast  discovering  his  mistake  was  thumbing 
back  the  leaves  to  the  form  of  solemnization  of  matri- 
mony, and  soon  we  had  the  joy  of  hearing  the  fam- 
iliar : 

"Dearly  beloved,  we  are  gathered  together  here,  in 
the  sight  of  Cod,  and  in  the  face  of  this  company,  to 
join  together  this  man  and  this  woman  in  holy  matri- 
mony  " 

It  was  a  relief  to  us  all.  We  were  too  happy  to 
die,  and  we  did  want  to  be  joined  together  in  holy 
matrimony. 

After  the  ceremony  there  were  congratulations,  and 
I  have  a  mixed  memory  of  being  generally  handed 

310 


PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS  CHARMING 

around  and  kissed.  I  was  as  wretched  as  so  happy  a 
man  could  be,  but  out  of  the  confusion  of  sounds  one 
incident  remains  quite  distinct.  Uncle  Jason  drew  me 
aside. 

"Do  you  see  that  turquoise  brooch  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  see  the  beautiful  diamond  necklace  you  bought 
for  Florentine,"  I  said. 

"Bother  Florentine,"  was  my  uncle's  unchivalric 
reply.  "I  mean  the  blue  stone  brooch  Lady  Faith  has 
got  on.  It's  in  the  front  of  that  lace  collar  of 
hers." 

I  glanced  at  Aunt  Faith  and  saw  that  which  made 
me  stare.  Around  her  shoulders  there  was  thrown  a 
white  lace  scarf,  and  in  the  front  the  scarf  was  fas- 
tened with  a  big  pale  blue  turquoise  brooch  set  in  a 
filigree  frame.  It  was  as  big  as  an  after-dinner  coffee 
saucer,  or  an  American  trade  dollar. 

"I  gave  it  to  her,"  he  exclaimed  triumphantly. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?"  I  asked. 

Uncle  Jason  looked  wise. 

"I  bought  it  of  a  lady  on  the  street.  The  poor  thing 
had  lost  her  purse  and  couldn't  get  home.  She  was 
from  Liverpool  and  had  come  to  London  for  a  few 
days'  shopping  and  she  needed  the  money.  I  was 
looking  in  a  window  at  some  brooches  when  she 
stopped  me  and  told  me  the  whole  story.  She  said 
she  would  sell  it  at  a  bargain  and  I  bought  it.  I  tell 
you  it's  a  beauty." 

"What  did  she  look  like?"  I  inquired  in  sudden 
curiosity. 

"Red  hair,  healthy  pink  cheeks,  big  handsome  figure, 
long  coat  and  veil ;  kept  her  face  pretty  well  covered 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

as  she  didn't  want  folks  to  see  her  selling  her  breast- 
pin," she  said. 

"Too  bad,"  I  murmured.  "Did  she  say  anything 
else?" 

"No,  she  hurried  away  as  soon  as  she  got  the  money. 
I  told  her  she  could  send  me  the  money  any  time  and 
I'd  send  her  back  the  brooch,  but  she  said  no,  she'd 
rather  sell  it  outright." 

"I'm  sure  she  would,"  I  declared  emphatically. 


312 


CHAPTER   XXXIV, 

PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS  CHARMING 

4 6  "V^ T OW,  who's  going  to  take  the  bride  out  to 
1^^       supper?"   asked  Uncle  Jason,  which  re- 
•^  minded    me    that    we   were    still    getting 

married. 

"I  think  it  is  Lady  Faith's  dinner  hour,"  I  sug- 
gested, as  I  rejoined  Florentine,  who  had  moved  from 
under  the  bell,  but  was  being  congratulated  and 
wished  much  joy  again  and  again  by  Irene,  who  does 
nothing  by  halves. 

"Dinner  is  next  on  the  program,  I  believe,"  ob- 
served I,  smiling  at  Florentine,  "and,  Mrs.  Elliott,  if 
I  may  have  the  pleasure " 

The  clock  struck. 

"It's  just  time  for  Aunt  Faith's  dinner,"  exclaimed 
Florentine.  "It  is  the  hour  when  she  always  looks 
for  the  arrival  of  her  Prince  Charming." 

"He  has  arrived !"  I  remarked. 

We  looked  down  the  center  of  the  drawing-room 
door  just  in  time  to  see  Uncle  Jason  making  a  low 
bow  to  Aunt  Faith,  a  bow  which  was  returned  with 
a  court  courtesy.  And  then,  before  our  astonished 
eyes,  she  linked  her  arm  in  that  of  Uncle  Jason  and 
they,  too,  swept  through  the  drawing-room  and  into 
the  dining-room  beyond,  leaving  Florentine  and  Irene 
and  me  to  follow  as  we  pleased. 

313 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

Uncle  Jason  seated  Aunt  Faith  at  the  head  of  the 
Feast  Board — he  had  temporarily  forgotten  Florentine 
— then  he  stood  at  his  own  chair  at  the  foot  of  the 
table,  a  seat  he  had  usurped  at  once  as  his  own,  and 
looked  around.  But  his  gaze  wandered  back  to  Aunt 
Faith.  A  rose  was  in  his  buttonhole;  he  took  it  out 
and  lifted  it,  extending  it  delightedly  toward  her.  The 
dear  old  lady  rose  and  courtesied  and  seated  herself 
again  with  her  hand  resting  on  the  roses  in  her  cor- 
sage. 

A  waiter,  all  deaf  and  dumb  after  the  manner  of 
waiters,  was  passing  down  the  table,  filling  the  glasses 
with  their  sparkling  bumpers. 

"A  health!"  cried  Uncle  Jason.  "A  health — to  all 
of  us!" 

He  lifted  his  glass. 

We  all  looked  at  Aunt  Faith;  her  hand  shook,  but 
she  raised  hers. 

"And  to  My  Lady!"  said  Uncle  Jason,  making  a 
bow  at  her  that  nearly  overturned  the  table. 

"I've  been  doing  a  little  proposing  of  my  own !"  he 
declared,  "while  you  and  Florentine  have  been  busy 
with  your  affairs." 

His  eyes  wandered  from  the  astonished  face  of 
Florentine  to  that  of  my  own  surprised  but  gratified 
countenance. 

Then  his  glance  rested  upon  his  daughter  Irene. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Irene?"  he  asked,  and 
there  was  just  a  tinge  of  trepidation  in  his  voice. 

"Oh,"  said  Irene,  "I  guessed  it  an  hour  ago  and  I 
wrote  a  letter  home  to  Beverly  telling  the  neighbors  all 


AN  INTERVIEW   WITH  HER   MOTHER 

about  it;  but  I  thought  I'd  better  not  mail  it  until  you 
set  the  day." 

"Name  the  day !"  exclaimed  Uncle  Jason,  gleaming 
down  the  table  at  Aunt  Faith. 

"Hold!"  interrupted  I,  "this  is  our  wedding!" 

There  was  a  jangle  at  the  door  bell ;  Florentine  and 
I  both  sprang  to  our  feet.  I  started  for  the  door,  and 
with  a  remark  that  I  would  answer  the  bell  I  went 
out,  closing  all  the  doors  after  me. 

As  I  opened  the  front  door  a  burst  of  sound  came 
in.  The  front  stoop  seemed  filled  with  people.  There 
were  three  men,  and  on  the  doorstep  stood  Lady  Hen- 
sington. 

"Pardon  me!"  she  exclaimed,  "but  it  was  too  good 
to  keep." 

She  opened  her  cloak  and  took  out  a  box;  she  un- 
clasped it  and  a  gleam  shot  out  from  a  stone  of  heroic 
size.  It  was  the  Hepworth !  Lady  Hensington  almost 
shrieked  with  excitement. 

"We  recovered  it  late  this  afternoon,"  she  cried  joy- 
ously. "They  found  Johnny,  the  Australian  Crook, 
and  he  had  it  on  his  person." 

"He  was  concealed  in  a  hidden  passage  in  the  wall," 
interrupted  a  detective. 

"And  they  got  the  Hepworth !"  said  Lady  Hensing- 
ton, "and  you  needn't  replace  it !" 

"He's  confessed,  too,"  said  the  detective.  "He  mur- 
dered Sir  Charles  Hadley  at  Wentstone  last  night. 
Went  up  a  stairway  on  the  outside  of  the  wall !" 

"Incredible!"  I  ejaculated.  But  I  was  the  only  one 
present  who  knew  how  perfectly  credible  it  was. 

Well,  I  shook  hands  with  them  all  and  excused  my- 

315 


THE    STAIRWAY    ON    THE    WALL 

self  as  soon  as  possible,  dismissing  them  rather  uncere- 
moniously. 

Then  I  went  back  to  my  wedding  feast,  but  I  had  a 
lighter  heart  than  before. 

Florentine,  too  nervous  to  sit  quietly,  had  risen 
from  her  seat.  I  went  straight  to  her  and  laid  on 
her  plate  a  black  leather  case. 

"It  is  the  Kohina  diamond,"  I  said,  "and  it  is  a  wed- 
ding gift.  They've  found  the  Hepworth!" 

"Mrs.  Elliott's  health !"  roared  Uncle  Jason.  "And 
the  health  of — the  diamond." 

Everybody  drank  delightedly. 

Florentine  took  the  diamond  and  gave  me  one  look, 
a  look  out  of  which  fear  for  my  safety  and  anxiety 
for  my  future  had  vanished, — a  look  in  which  under- 
standing held  rendezvous  with  understanding — and  we 
knew  now  that  the  path  of  happiness  lay  broad  and 
clear  ahead. 


The  TEMPTATION 
OF  ST.  ANTHONY 

By  GUSTAVE    FLAUBERT 

Translated  by  LAFCADIO  HEARN  Introduction  by  ELIZABKTII  BISLAND 


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